Heartsbane
by Joanna Jacobs
Summary: AU. When Samwell Tarly rides south to place Gilly & her babe as a maid in Horn Hill he reunites with his sister, Talla. Hearing news that Jon Snow has been killed at the Wall, he rushes back -and somehow manages to find Talla with him. Now at the Wall, Talla meets the newly resurrected Jon Snow -what chaos will follow? M for future chapters.
1. Prologue

**Hi guys! Some of you might know me from my Jaime fic, Burning Bright, which I admittedly had taken a small hiatus from but am now back to. But this story has been itching to get out for months -so I decided to start writing it...who knows...maybe I can juggle them.**

 **Just to give you guys some background, this story is basically an AU from where it begins. Talla Tarly is only mentioned in the books once so we know she exists but nothing beyond that and it always interested me to play around with a character like that who could have been raised in the same home (and by the same parents) as Samwell.**

 **I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

 **Samwell**

It was only the crack of dawn, but how strange it felt to him. The sky had not changed, it was the exact same sky that had stretched above him when he had left Horn Hill, arguably his home, under. _Like the coward you are,_ he could almost hear his father spit, but Sam now knew for himself that if not wanting to watch as he broke his mother's heart as she stood helpless was being a coward -then he would gladly wear the title.

So much had changed since he had left home. Most notably being the realisation that this place had never truly been _home_ , not to him. No, now the trembling boy he had been was only a slightly shaky man -with a child names after him in his arms and a girl as pretty as daisies sitting next to him.

"How are you so sure she'll take us in?" She asked him right then, just minutes away from entering a place he had promised to never return to.

"She's my mother. She'll want to." He tried to explain.

"Well, I wouldn't know 'bout that would I?" He heard her mutter under her breath.

He understood that it was hard for her to fathom why a home that had shunned him would receive whatever he had to give to them well -if Sam was being honest he could not really understand it all that well either, but he knew his mother. Despite who she had married Sam knew her eyes -and they were the kindest he'd ever seen. They were Talla's eyes, and Dickon's too -no matter how well he could fight, Sam always knew deep down there was something gentle in him. His other sisters -Tara and Rylene, were good enough he supposed -but they were his father's daughters through and through.

Before passing the gates, he thought back on everything he experienced before he had left through them that first time. It was a strange thing to him to realise that him and his other siblings -with the exception of Dickon, had suffered the same treatment most all their lives but have arguably come out as different people. _The same water that softens the potato hardens the egg -or something like that_ , he recalled Maester Aemon had said once. Tara and Rylene had, under their father's scrutiny, been bitter as Sam recalled. And Talla had become somewhat obedient, but he wondered whether any of that had changed. _I suppose now's as good a time as any to find out._ He thought to himself as they finally entered Horn Hill.

Chickens and roosters fluttered their wings about in a hazy sunlit dream of feathers around the courtyard and the great fortress Samwell Tarly was born to hovered over him half asleep, still.

For a great house of the showy Reach Horn Hill had always been a more humble home than most -even Sam had to say so. It was true his father had always preferred efficiency over appearances and its evidence stood glaringly in the running and maintenance of what he was once thought of as his home. Hidden deep in the cover of surrounding hunting grounds and forests, Horn Hill stood firmly in the centre with a glaze of green moss and a cold heart at its centre. The terror of his youth shook through him harshly, and Sam wondered not for the first time whether this was all a big mistake.

Before he had the chance to reconsider he noticed the sharp brow on one of the roaming house servants contort, and suddenly they rose in recognition as they made the connection between the strange lord gone and the new black brother standing before them. It did not take them long to run inside to undoubtedly inform the Lady of the house. For a moment Samwell's heart rang in his ears and his blood pumped with the resounding voice of his father warning him to never return.

"Should we go in?" He heard Gilly ask in a whisper, still careful not to rouse the solemnly sleepy morning air.

"We'll find out soon enough" He answered without looking at her as he stood there, his feet firmly planted into the ground he had tasted in his youth. In those short seconds before he was confronted with the finality of his decision he could feel abandoned roots in the ground reach out to plant him in further. Roots that had, essentially like him, been cut down before their time and been left to fend for themselves. Was that really how he thought of himself, still? He was strong now, as were the roots holding him in place -stopping him from running right back into that same screechy carriage that had dropped them off and return to hide somewhere -anywhere.

The few minutes that passed seemed like hours before a figure he knew all too well stood at the humble doorway of the formidable fort. He found his memory searching desperately for a comparison from his memory, but he could not command a clear enough image and for the first time in a long time, Samwell felt shame in forgetting. _How much have I forgotten, mother?_

There she stood, the woman that had been kind when everything else was cruel. The woman who had loved him as closely as he could ever be loved, or as closely as she would have been allowed to love him. Her small eyes wrinkled at the edges and her thin mouth that usually wore a look of warmth stood agape. It seemed like the words were stuck in her chest, if there were any words at all.

The reality hit him all at once. Here he was, standing in front of his own mother with a woman and a baby behind him, what in the world could he say to explain any of this?

"Sam" the words were finally spoken, but they did not leave his mother. No, it came from behind him, a voice he recognised that had been full of pears and applesauce and stuffed toys and big eyes -it was Talla.

He turned to face her, since her voice had come from behind him, and found a woman grown -far different than the awkwardly put together girl he had left, or maybe his expectations at the Wall had been severely lowered.

Her eyes were wide and brown, just as he remembered. Her hair dark like his, just as he remembered, and tied back, just as he was forgetting. But her cheeks were not as full, her jaw a little slack and her frame far more _womanly_ than he had anticipated. His thoughts scrambled and he wondered if now was a good time to ask why she was not married yet. _Don't be stupid Samwell_.

But stupid was all he could be as he stood dangerously in the line of vision of the two women from his past that cared for him. His mother had still not moved from her place, her eyes circling to and from Sam to Talla, Sam to Talla. He noticed the dark stained line at the bottom of Talla's dress, _she's been out walking_. He thought to himself, _she never liked to walk before._ And his mind spiralled for the millionth time that morning at what had changed in the never changing fortress.

"Sam." Talla repeated, this time more sure and with a resonance in her voice he hadn't recognised before. And just like that, she ran to him, so freely, so unlike her former self that Sam had known, and she jumped into his arms somehow knowing he'd catch her.

He could feel her bones through their clothes, he could feel her sharp intakes of breath and the wet hot tears that were now staining his neck.

"I've missed you so much, brother"

And he hugged her back, for the first time in his life. And without another moment passing he felt another pair of arms surrounding him, and he realised he was standing in his old yard held by his mother and sister. _Who'd have ever guessed?_

 _..._

He stood, almost breathless, at the small terrace overlooking the farm fields -his mother's favourite place. And now he was deigned worthy enough to have his breakfast there with them -and Gilly of course.

It was all so fast, it was all so surreal. They had practically doted on him in the short minutes they had in the yard before turning their attention to Gilly and the babe.

"What's his name?" Talla had asked.

"Sam" Gilly all but stuttered.

"Well, why don't you and Sam -and Sam, come inside then and we can have some treats?" Her voice, still gravelly and kind, did nothing to hide her suspicions. He wondered whether he'd lie to her or not. Should he?

He was of course, grateful that she had not asked.

"So, big brother, tell me what i've missed."

* * *

 **Talla**

She could not believe it. She could almost mistrust her eyes. Was she still dreaming? Had her walk left her in a hallucinatory haze?

Talla and her mother exchanged a number of suspicious glances as they had led the displaced trio through to the terrace and to their dusted seats -it had been long since her mother had had such company. But even the hesitant smiles that graced their faces and newfound warmness in Samwell's cheeks could not make the most prominent thought ringing through her to dull down.

 _Had Samwell deserted the Wall?_ She thought to herself with unknown urgency. _Had he gotten a girl withchild and deserted out of fear?_ She would have been strongly inclined to think so, knowing her brother, but the man that sat next to her and the man she had held were a far cry from the boy she had never said goodbye to. This man did not look like a man that would run away.

Talla recalled the first days after Samwell had left -how she had paced about thinking that he had run away or gotten lost in the hunting grounds before her father had monotonously told her that he had gone to the Wall, how Dickon had had to walk her back to her chambers every night because she'd walk to Sam's and wonder when he'd return, how Tara and Rylene had made jokes about him at the Wall like he had never been here -like he was never _theirs_. It was not often that she thought of him nowadays, though her thoughts did wonder at times to how his life compared to hers. _Would he want to be me?_ She would ask herself, _would he trade the wall for whatever it is I have here?_ Not like she had much. And from the way that Samwell affectionately looked over Gilly after every movement, she began to suspect that Samwell might well have more than she did.

"Mother," _it's happening._ Her heart banged inside her and she began overthinking like she usually did.

 _Oh Gods, he's deserted them. He's running away. They're probably looking for him now. They'll hurt him! They'll kill him! Must they, though? He's not up North, maybe they'll be more lenient to him down here. Father could talk to Mace Tyrell about it. Oh Gods, what about Father? If the Watch don't get him I doubt Father would be any better. We could always lie. Yes, we won't let him know he's here. He could live in the cottage and Father wouldn't even have to know. But...what if they search the ground for him? They'll find him, he'll never get away in time. And what would they do to us for helping? Dear Mother, I pray to you to protect ou-_

 _"_ I've been sent by the Wall to train for my Maester's chain at the Citadel."

They were both stunned with silence.

"Oh. Oh Dear, that's...lovely, Samwell." She could tell the smile her mother plastered on was not entirely genuine, but it was a relief to know that they would not all be hunted by the Night's Watch until Sam was executed for deserting -so there was _that_.

"I just thought that..." he continued, "I just ...thought that umm.."

 _Is he sweating?_ She thought to herself _. Oh Sam, oh Sam._

 _"_ I just thought that since i'm on my way down I could...you know, Gilly and baby Sam don't really have any place to go and she's not ...safe at the Wall...and I would just...I just thought that perhaps...maybe ...it would be alright.. for her to maybe ...stay here?" Talla was finally piecing together the meaning of impromptu visit through her brother's stuttering -he needed a place for Gilly. She looked to her mother then, desperate to know where she stood. _Do we? Have a place for Gilly?_

 _"_ Well, Dear-" her mother started again before her long disappeared brother interrupted.

"It's my baby." He said quickly. She should believe him. She knew she should. But she could not imagine Samwell doing... _that_. She could barely imagine anyone doing ... _that,_ not to mention her bashful older brother who could not even look a woman in the eye. _But then again_ , she interrupted herself, it was _been a while_.

She giggled, much to her horror. Her laughter quickly bubbled through the room and between hiccuping laughs she hoped, she _hoped,_ that Sam would not be offended by it. She would think he'd have a hard time being offended when Gilly and her mother joined into the laughter and soon erupted from barely withheld giggles to full-blown cries of enjoyment as the object of their humour looked on in mortification.

Their session of laughter was rudely interrupted by a scurrying porter, running wide eyed into the room holding what looked like a hastily sealed letter.

"For the Brother in Black, " He said, his eyes still wide and somehow afraid. "From the Wall."

They all stopped breathing for a moment as Samwell clumsily tore open the letter and they watched as his face morphed from alarming worry to horror as he read through it.

They anticipated an explanation but nothing came. Talla waited for his hand to go limp with the letter, for him to look up, or at least look at Gilly -but he didn't. He shot up out of his chair and made to run out to the hall.

It was not hard for Talla to catch up with him -but he still did not stop. She reached over desperately and grabbed at the shaggy black cloth attached to his shoulder and frantically pulled him to a stop.

"Sam, what's happened?" She failed at not letting the fear show in her voice.

"It...it says," He swallowed something down trying to get the words out.

"What does it say?" She heard Gilly ask from behind her, but her eyes never left Sam as they searched for something steady to hold onto.

"It says Jon's dead. But it can't be true. It can't be." Her hand loosened its grip on him and he gently fell back. Talla didn't need to know who Jon was to know that he was important to her brother.

He turned once more, continuing his way forward like he had never stopped while she heard him mutter to himself like a mad man,

"I'm going back. I have to go back."

.

* * *

 **I hope you guys enjoyed this! Please tell me your thoughts!**

 **Until next time.**


	2. The Lady and Her Sword

**A/N: Wow, i'm really happy with the response to this story so far (considering all I had out was a prologue), but I mostly owe that to the general thirst for ASOIAF fics currently.**

 **In response to reviewer Dread Knight N7: Sam's family life is exactly what I want to explore, and I thought I could do that through Talla -which you'll definitely see in upcoming chapters. But yeah, the main theme is pretty much the same -Randyll Tarly is a dick.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Samwell**

It was all a strong flurry of freshly made memories.

He had arrived in a home that had traumatised him far before anything at the Wall could have a chance to. He had been reunited, _if that's what you could even call it_ , with his mother and sister and introduced them to Gilly and baby Sam -the whole reason he was even back there to begin with. And then he had run out on all of them without barely a few put together words because of a _single letter_.

"Take care of Gilly for me please" He had said in a hurry, not even knowing where he was going at the time. He had not even given his mother the time to respond before he had turned around looking for a caravan that was no longer there. He heard her yell behind him to at least wait for them to prepare a carriage with supplies for him to take on his journey, but even as he stilled her voice was still distant to him; everything felt distant to him. Nothing felt real.

What he had done to Gilly could not even constitute as a goodbye. She was the girl whose heart his belonged to and all he could give her was a kiss on her cheek before telling her to get herself inside.

"What are you doin' Sam? You can't just leave us. Not like this."

"This was the plan for you. You and Sammy'll be safe here."

"If...if what they say is true then it's not safe for you to go back there Sam." He had just stared at her for a moment, like he had not even heard what she had said, like she was not really there.

"I must." Was all he could utter out to her. _Jon would have done the same for me,_ he thought before reprimanding himself harshly, _Jon would do the same for me._

He waited impatiently and with the feeling of eyes staring down at him for the carriage, for which he would normally be grateful, but now it just served as an impediment to his hasty return -a strangle to his three-week journey to exhale.

 _It can't be true. It isn't. They would never._

And yet Samwell knew that the deep pull in his stomach that was tearing at him like a wild boar being skinned by his hunter was not merely nerves. He knew it better than anything else -better than the bitter cold and his longing for his hands to entwine with Gilly's, there was nothing Samwell knew better than absolute undiluted fear. And though the gnawing on his insides was familiar, it did not feel entirely like facing certain death. No, there was something else. Something else stirred inside him and it was like all he could see was his best friend, pale and wrapped in black with his eyes eternally closed. It was guilt.

He could not tell if it took minutes or hours but he could hear the carriage make its way to him, but all he could see was the red of blood pumping and thumping through his ears. _It's all my fault_ , he thought.

 _It's all my fault. It's all my fault. If I hadn't left then nothing would have happened. Please don't be hurt. Please don't be dead._

His knee faltered momentarily as he stepped onto the carriage, one half of him on to the rider's deck and the other half hovering over the ground. He looked up to a window and somehow find Gilly watching over him almost like she was waiting for him to turn around.

 _Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead._

He chanted repeatedly until he was sat on the rider's seat and his sweaty palms were squeezing the reins with all the might he had left.

He gulped down the lump protesting in his throat as he spared one last glance at Horn Hill, knowing now for sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that he could not belong there. Its initial familiarity had worn off and he could finally see it once more for what it had always been to him -cold, detached and ruthless. It seems even he preferred the Wall to this.

And with a firm snap of the reins and a jolt to the carriage, he was off and away almost as suddenly as he had arrived, Horn Hill disappearing once more under the cover of the hunting grounds that had almost hunted him.

* * *

 **Talla**

When Talla had set out for her walk that moment, she had not expected her day to end up -or start, the way that it had.

She usually took the dawn to walk around the hunting grounds. It was partly because she could never find sleep very easily and had found that waking up earlier made her sleepier, thus creating a cycle. And it was also due to the fact that in the dawn her home looked different and Talla could somehow fool herself into thinking that there were different people and different kinds of things happened within its walls.

Everything was asleep -so was everyone, and she was free to do whatever she wanted, and to Talla, that somehow always ended up being _nothing_. Here, in the space of time where the sun was still fluttering its eyes open to the world, Talla did nothing but walk in the forest hoping she would get lost in them. Sometimes she would encounter the odd fox here and there, and she would think to herself that they really were not all that bad. Sometimes, when her father was home, she'd see a fox in the morning and later on in the evening see it brought in, dead and bloodied and completely drained of the fact that it had ever existed. She did not walk as often into the hunting grounds when her father was home.

She did not know if she could say she was grateful her father was in King's Landing -some part of her that could not shake the obedience beaten into her psyche could not even utter those words in her mind. It was not like all trace of him had completely disappeared when he had gone -not like Sam, everyone feared him too much to venture into the unknown waters of what it would be like without his order.

That was not to say that Randyll Tarly was _scary_. At least not to Talla, not anymore. She had decided long ago that she would not let him be that to her. The best way she could understand it was that he saw goodness in firmness and efficiency and he had made it his goal to achieve that and ensure that they all followed suit. He saw no virtue or need in any warmth or familial affection -if you could bring honour to your name then you were fair-game in Randyll Tarly's eyes.

She had stopped thinking about him shortly after he had gone. But then Dickon had gone with him, and it was harder not to think of Sam as well. _Young Dickon, still just a boy, married off at Father's earliest convenience._

" _There is no time to waste_ " She remembered him grumbling when he had made the announcement -not that Dickon had complained. Dickon could never complain.

On her walk that morning on grounds Talla thought about whether she was an awful person for feeling relief that it was Dickon that had been forced to get married and not she. _I'm one of the lucky one,_ she thought -almost chuckling at the implication, _usually it's us girls that are bartered off to the most advantageous bidder._ She could not help that she was glad it was not her that her father had forsaken -though she doubted her father saw them as anything to forsake, and it was not at all from a lack of trying on her father's part that made her somehow come out unscathed a miracle. She had come dangerously close at one point, she had even somewhat convinced herself it was all for the best -even meeting the man and staying with his family for a while. It wasn't until that all the unpleasantness in the Capital broke out and Talla was released from a promise she had not even made.

She had not expected to return to her cold home to find a man in black, a woman and a babe waiting at the foot of the house. She had not expected that man to be her brother. Or the woman to be his lover and the child to be well... _his._

 _Ours,_ she had thought when he had hastily announced it, right before everything fell apart faster than it had ever come together.

It had not even been explained to her, Sam could barely put together two words to form a sentence after reading that letter. But he did not have to explain the horror in his eyes or slacking dryness in his mouth. She did not have to know who Jon was.

He had even rushed Gilly inside without a proper explanation, and Talla had supposed that that meant that they were agreeing to his terms -quite forcefully she would have thought.

She took Gilly with her upstairs to the drawing room, silently thanking whatever entity still existed to watch over them for Rylene and Tara's late sleeping habits -she could barely process or make sense of what was happening to herself how would she explain it to her small minded sisters?

Together in drawing room, her a Gilly waited in silence as they stood by the window watching big Sam fry his nerves out and little Sam blew raspberries in the air.

She kept her eyes trained on her older brother and realised that she recognised him the most when he was like this. Scared, shaking and unsure. Had that been what their home had done to him? She remembers far too clearly what he was when he had been here -and though she could pardon his regression due to mitigating circumstances she could not help but wonder what he was like, what he was _really_ like, now that he had gotten out of it. He seemed more sure of himself, and wiser -like he had seen things he did not want to. She wondered, briefly at first, would she ever change?

And it only took a second. Not even a moment. For her to decide that she would leave as well with nothing but her mud stained dress.

"Wait here for mother." She had said to Gilly before rushing out of the room trying not to look too suspicious.

She ran through the cold-blooded halls that she knew all too well as her mind completely took over her body -it was like she was watching herself running just a few steps behind her. The first place she went to was her father's study -who no one ever dared touch regardless of whether or not he was there, and she instinctually grabbed for the object wrapped in layers of leather and cloth on his desk before running out once more at full speed and coming to a screeching halt before the exit that led to the carriage house.

Thom, the main stablehand had just unloaded the last of a box of eggplants before shutting the carriage door.

"M'Lady?" It was then that Talla could admit, she had not properly thought this through -nor had she anticipated anyone being there to catch her.

"Is the carriage ready?" She asked, hoping to divert the attention by acting natural.

"Yes Mum -M'Lady"

"Well, I just wanted to add something personal in there for Sam. I'll throw it in now -you go get Dom so he could bring the horse out to him." _Wow. Even i'm impressed_. She supposed growing up with strict parents made her an exceptional liar -who knew? It was not like there had been anything worth lying about before now.

"Of course M'Lady." He left without another word, and Talla gave herself less than a second to be impressed with her efforts. _Not bad for a first time liar -if I do say so myself._

Without another moment to spare Talla jumped into the carriage -firmly closing the door behind her, and realised that she would have to rearrange herself in the midst of all the stocked up supplies cluttering the small space. She moved herself carefully next to one of the seats so she could sit on a bag of wheat -carefully setting the tightly covered object under one of the seats, and thoughtfully moved the other boxes around her to afford her with some cover.

A few moments later she heard the approaching footsteps of their main stablehand and she prayed once more that no one would bother checking on the contents of the carriage. As she continued on with her silent prayer -somehow simultaneously holding her breath the whole time, she felt the carriage begin to move and she could finally bring herself to exhale. _Oh thank you Dom. Thank you thank you thank you._

She could feel every bump on the ground, every crack of a twig, and she could feel her brother hesitate once she had reached him.

The air was thick inside the carriage was she waited, silently thinking to herself that maybe this was a sign. Maybe she wasn't meant to leave. Maybe this was the Gods's way of giving her a second chance to make the right call. She almost considered that possibility until she felt Sam's weight shift to the front of the carriage and they made their way towards the gate; towards their exit.

She didn't even have to look outside to know when they had left. She knew, in her heart she knew, that as soon as the light that was obscured by the heavy forest finally prevailed that they had left -truly left. She was in the clear. She was free.

And now, Talla -ever the over-thinker, was once again regretting her decision. They were beyond hours away from home -she had of course lost all sense of time, or home for that matter. Sam was riding them relentlessly and her arse was paying the price. She did not have a plan, and she knew that Sam was not the brightest of boys, but she honestly expected to be "discovered" far sooner than this. She stared at the shiny exterior poking out of the wrapped leather and let her fingers brush up against the cool Valyrian steel carefully -she had never been allowed to do so before now. _I have more freedom in this cramped carriage than I ever had before._

It finally came when Sam, at full speed, passed over a particularly big bump and she had emitted some sort of sound -even Talla did not know what that was or how it could come out of her, that she felt them coming to a stop.

 _Please don't let him kill me. Please don't let him kill me. Please let him stop for the night. Please please please let him get me a bed. Please._

The carriage door swung open and she finally discerned that it was in fact nearing dawn. Of course, that did not distract her from her brother standing wide-eyed, jaw slack and mouth hanging open as he gaped at her in disbelief.

"Talla? What in the world are you doing here?!"

.

* * *

 **Samwell**

 _This is not could not be happening. Nothing could be happening. The journey must have taken a toll on me,_ he thought as he assured himself of the fact that not even stopping for water or food must have weakened his mental capacities -as he was sure there was no way he was at that moment staring at the sight of his sister cramped up between a box of eggplants and apples. Samwell had never in his life begged so aggressively for his mind to fail him.

"Well it's about time." She tried to say, voice dry and chalky from the long journey, and Sam was faced with the reality of the situation.

"Oh Gods. Oh Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods. What have you done?!" He turned around and started pacing -much like he had back at Horn Hill, muttering desperate pleas to the open air and looking to the unnamed surrounding trees for some sort of guidance. _What do I do now? What do I do?_

He heard a shuffle behind him and two feet hit the ground. Turning around, he was faced with his little sister grown lifting her face to the sky and bending up and down to stretch her legs. Whatever madness he thought he had already set out upon, this was not what he had expected to see.

"What are you doing?"

"Would you like to ask me that question after you've spent a day sitting in the corner of a carriage?"

"Have you gone mad?" She looked at him then in a sort of surprise, as if the answer was staring him in the face and he was not seeing it, but he could also make out the sting in her eye at his question.

He would have thought living with their father all that time would have thickened her skin. But it seems Randyll Tarly had a special talent for breaking people in a way only he could.

"Don't look at me like that, Talla. You know what you've done." Her eyes widened even more than they naturally were and her jaw dropped and Sam had no choice but to be confused. Feeling like he had missed the point was becoming an unwelcome habit as of recent.

"What have _I_ done? What about what _you've_ done? You come back after all those years without so much as a word and...and you _throw_ a girl and a child at us with that excuse of an explanation and then you just _run off!_ Again!"

"Oh and I suppose you're here to babysit me are you?" He had never been so challenging to anyone in his family before, but he could not believe the nerve on the girl. _The girl_ , as if he had not covered her braids with flower-dye once so she would have golden locks like the Queen. She was avoiding the answer, and so she decided to drive him to exasperation by flipping the question onto him -but that wouldn't work on him now. Not after the Wall, and not after he had found her in a carriage a whole day's ride away from where she is supposed to be.

As he expected, his retort was met with silence as her eyes scurried away from his.

He let them stand for a moment in the still dawn, a light mist surrounding them seemed to be the only thing that was moving as they both shied away from the other's gaze.

"I'm taking you back." He declared, firmly. Or at least he tried. She opened her mouth to reply, and even without the full light of the sun Sam could see the fight that was already stirring in them.

"Get in the carriage!" She crossed her arms.

"No." He did not have the patience for those antics. Nor did he have the time, he had no time at all.

"So help me I will put you back in that carriage myself and-"

"And what? You'll take me back to Horn Hill? Chances are they already know i'm gone. What'll happen to me then? What'll happen to you once they know you've returned me? Do you think they'll just let you go? Especially with what's happened with Jilly and-"

"It's Gilly!"

"Gilly." They stood in silence once again, the sun racing to meet them in its haste as they Samwell slowly mulled over the implication of where her little speech was going.

"Think about it, Sam. There's no way mother won't tell father. And then he'll know you were back. And if that wasn't enough, he'll know about _Gilly_ and baby Sam. What do you think he'll do to you? What do you think he'll do to them?"

He couldn't answer, because he knew. All the pieces were coming together, and it seemed that her time in the carriage had given Talla plenty of time to analyse her obviously impromptu decision.

"Sam." He heard her whisper quietly into the open road. He finally looked back up at her. She knew she had him, but there was an empathy in her eyes that he had always recognised -an empathy he could hear even in her voice. And he remembered not the Talla that was fighting with him in an open field at dawn -but the girl that had let him teach her about what he knew of Old Valyria.

"You said it yourself, we're a whole day's ride away." She looked around their surroundings then -like she was just realising where they were.

"And we don't seem to be on any major roads, we can make it to the Wall. If we turn back now, even if you're somehow able to go back in one piece, you'll never know about Jon's fate -or the truth of it for that matter. Please, for your sake and mine, take me with you."

He wrestled with himself over the undeniable logic Talla presented him with. What did he value more? The fear of whatever it meant to basically steal Talla from Horn Hill, or returning to the friend he owes his life to? What did it even mean to 'steal' Talla from her home? She had come willingly. Did he fear the action or just his father's reaction? Why was his father's permission still such an issue to him when it was not his to ask for anymore?

"It's dangerous at the Wall." He sighed out weakly, his defence was as good as shattered. But that could also be from how utterly exhausted he was from the ride.

"I can handle myself" She retorted without a second's hesitation.

He didn't bother replying to her that that was probably untrue. Life as a Lord's daughter, however unglamorous it may have been in her case, would never compare to the Wall -especially as the only woman in the midst of criminals. He merely shuffled back to the carriage, once again hovering half his wait on the first steps and the other on the ground as before looking back at her.

"Well go on then." He caught her instantaneous smile at his final concession and would have thought it contagious if he were not overwhelmingly aware of the situation.

Instead of cramming herself back into the carriage that had been her dungeon Talla instead opted to sit next to her brother at the front of the carriage. The biting wind hit them both harshly as they resumed their journey, and Samwell wondered at what point her stubbornness had developed to such great lengths.

 _You sure are risking a whole lot for far too little._ Even Sam could not guess why Talla, a young woman as fine as any, would want to go with him.

"So," she started, pulling him out of his curious reveries, "tell me all about this Jon that's so important."

 _Gods damn me, Jon Snow, I hope for all our sakes this decision is not the end of us._

* * *

 **Jon**

It was a flurry of a blood and snow and ice; and then there was fire. So much fire. A shadow of red had burned through his pupils and the smoke would have suffocated him if he was not already dead.

He knew he had gone, passed over, cross sides, the moment his vision started blurring and fading into nothing but the black that he was sworn to he somehow knew it was the end of him. He thought of Bran and Rickon and Robb and his father, all their deaths tragic and yet here he was joining them in the same fashion. What had his oath done for him but condemn him to the same end?

When he was left alone with the darkness it fell silent, for what felt like centuries. He did not know he could still feel. In that century, somehow in the darkness, he could see Ygritte, her smile crooked and her hand in his. He walked with her without any knowledge of where he was going or what he was stepping in to -was this what the other side was like?

And then the warmth of his love's hand had slipped away and in the pitch-black darkness rose a mass of even darker black. It grew until it hovered over Jon, and then suddenly there were flashes of colour -flashes of yellow, orange and red flickering from behind him tentatively until they rippled through him all at once and he was looking into a pair of eyes -blood red and thirsty for sacrifice.

"I choose you." It had rumbled, and with a jolt the coldness returned to Jon's ribs and his vision returned to him.

He looked around desperately, wondering whether it had all been a dream. But he was not in his bed. No, Jon was laying in the snow infested bed of wooden branches right outside of the Walls he was meant to protect, with dawn lighting the never ending ice. And there she sat next to him, the Red woman, her eyes betraying no surprise at where they were or what had happened.

Her line of vision changed from him to something lying next to him, and he followed it swiftly to find to his horror Todder's body next to his -still and lifeless and his throat sliced open.

"What have you done?" Was all he could utter as he stared down at his comrade, butchered and his blood spilling through the branches.

The Red Woman stood slowly, and the knife she had used became visible to Jon, erasing any suspicion of her innocence.

"You're welcome, Jon Snow." Was all she said as she walked away, a red twig blown around by the wind.

He lifted his torn doublet to inspect the damage that had been done to him, but he was met with scars instead of wounds. Instead of being greeted by the sight of blood and dents in his skin he found round bumps -burns, over the places he had been stabbed. He could never forget them.

In an a fog of ice, his feet did not fail him as he made to stand. He looked over once more at Todder's body left to be buried in the ice, and he nodded to him somehow willing him to understand. _For the Watch_. He made his way back to Castle Black, through the wide open gates, back into the fortress of snakes.

He killed Bowen Marsh that day, and little Olly right after him, as everyone watched.

"You all die the day I do." He had said to them. He had never seen anyone swear fealty so quickly, and he made a mental note to replace all of them _somehow_. _The Night's Watch had never been made up of such weak men._

By the time the day was over Castle Black was permanently stained in red and there was no sign anywhere of the Melisandre anywhere, and Jon Snow, the shrewd and quiet boy who was a hero to everyone but himself, cared far too little about that. He was back, but he knew a part of him had been lost. Perhaps the part of him Ygritte had held so closely to her when they were in the dark together had floated away when she had, and he did not know what could ever bring it back. In his state, he did not care whether it ever would.

He had retaken Castle Black and the Night's Watch, not even death could part him from his duty.

 _They killed the boy for me, Maester Aemon,_ he said to himself, _i'm the man the watch needs now._

* * *

 **Very short Jon chapter at the end there -just to establish that he is alive and well thanks to one particular militant worshipper. I'll obviously be getting into more detail about that in later chapters but i'm just laying the base of what happened and how Jon got Castle Black back -it's all his now.**

 **I'll hopefully have the next chapter up sometime next week -just be patient with me!**

 **Review, review, review!**

 **Thanks for reading.**


	3. The Wall

**A/N: Hello again, thank you all for the support and encouraging words -its really helped me get this chapter up so soon after the previous one. I find it really strange that I have only had 2 chapters out for this story and I already have more than half the followers I have for my other 34-chaptered story...I don't get it. This chapter was surprisingly SO easy to write. I was dreading approaching it cause now I feel like people have higher expectations but I was literally just on break at uni and basically did it all in one go.**

 **Dread Knight N7: Jon is TECHNICALLY _not_ part of the Watch anymore but it's not something he's really willing to take into review or think about for the moment (you're really great at catching on!). And the reason I mentioned Olly was because usually I only tend to stick to the books exclusively but I figured that most of the people reading this have only watched the show and I really wanted to include Olly for recognition -also I wanted to kind of emphasise Jon's feeling of vengeance and no remorse by coldly executing a kid -messed up, I know. But yeah in general my fanfics are in line with the book.**

 **Guest : Hmmm...do you _want_ him to go after the Boltons? That's an entirely different matter altogether. Jon has to _be_ at the Wall for now to maintain control of it but let's just say changes will be made and the Boltons are not completely off the table. I'm glad you like it and I hope you enjoy!**

 **I didn't want to keep it too long so this chapter you'll see Sam's return to the Wall and Jon meeting Talla for the first time -filler chapters are such a bitch to write. Thank you so much for the support and i'm happy to answer any questions you have!**

* * *

 **Samwell**

It had been to Samwell -by far, the most exhausting 18 days of his life. There was no denying that the physical aspect of the journey had taken a great toll on him -as well as the lack of any sleep whatsoever. But Samwell found that it was all a simple kind of suffering that he had gotten used to in comparison to Talla's incessant questions. _I'll never get used to those._

During their first _official_ day's ride Sam had handed her the letter he had received from the Wall and she had read it over and over again trying to extract the truth from ink on a page. He had almost scoffed, and was a little offended that she had assumed she'd be able to determine something he would have missed.

 _"He's my best friend, Talla"_ He had said, hoping she would understand that when one receives such grievous news of someone who is not only his best friend but the bravest man he had ever known you may be excused from making any rash decisions. Instead all she had said was,

" _I wouldn't know anything about that."_ She reminded him of Gilly then. And it made him realise that though he was sworn to an unbreakable spoken oath -she was sworn to an unspoken one.

" _Why would they kill him?"_

 _"We're not sure they_ have _killed him."_

 _"Then why would they tell you they did?"_

 _"I don't know, Talla"_

 _"Why would someone write you a letter that the Lord Commander of the Wall has been "slain" and have a messenger follow and track you to deliver it with the "utmost urgency" if it wasn't even true?"_

She sure had a tendency to think things through. For someone who was running away from Randyll Tarly she sure spoke a great deal like him.

And Sam had met her with silence. Which he continued to do for a good chunk of the journey in which she would point out how irrational his decision was. Coming from the girl who jumped in a carriage to go to the Wall of all places.

When she wasn't being annoyingly logical they spoke of the years that they had been apart. To be more exact, she had asked -and he had informed her. He learned to stop asking after he she had coldly changed the subject to him after he had asked whether she'd even left Horn Hill at all.

So he told her about the Wall, and about Jon and Maester Aemon and Grenn and Pyp and all the things he had done beyond the Wall. And he was surprised to find that she was not as skeptical as he would have thought she'd be.

" _You really do believe me don't you?"_

 _"Why? Are you lying?" She teased._

 _"No, I just thought you'd be less trusting. Especially if someone you hadn't seen in years just told you that White Walkers were real and all."_

 _"Well, I for one know you're a terrible liar. And you're not just anyone." She lay her head on his shoulder, and though they were nearing the Wolfswood then, his heart had warmed a little against the biting cold._

She hadn't change at all but at the same time she had. She was seemingly leagues away from the girl he had known. They had not exactly been the closest of siblings, not like he knew Jon was with his own, but she was the kindest to him. They would play together before their father had a chance to tear Sam away. They had both endured the same scoldings and the same awkward dinners where their plates would not be filled.

" _A fat child is the last thing anyone needs."_ He'd remember his father muttering at dinner. He was the only one allowed to mutter.

Having a first son as meek and un-agile was one thing -but having a daughter who was not comely enough, especially in the Reach, was a different matter altogether. Perhaps Randyll Tarly _had_ planned all along that Sam would be sent away, but there was nothing one could do with a fat daughter but terrorise her into shape -at least not in Randyll Tarly's eyes. No, an undesirable bride would just be a burden to her parents and to her house in the eyes of his father, and he realised that that was probably why Talla had to endure the same upbringing as he had.

They had just passed the New Gift, which Sam could see was now well inhabited and fairly settled, but he did not change course to pass through it. _No need to be too hasty. Not with Wildlings at least._

As they rode past the rising smoke, the distant movement and the soundless rumble -all signs of life, he realised how quiet his sister had gotten.

The cold had gotten the better of her. She had been cold since the Riverlands, and once they had gotten to Moat Cailin he had acceded his own fur cloak onto her bony shoulders. But now she sat still with only her shivers as a sign of movement and her nose and cheeks were pink from the harsh wind and Sam found it a little alien that such a comely blush could make her look so lifeless.

 _Perhaps she's not meant for the quiet,_ he thought. He let a laugh escape him as he realised that perhaps he was not all that different -and how Jon was the complete opposite.

His smile fell from his face at the mention of Jon and he quickly tried to shake the thought away and with it the possibility that it was all true. He had not wanted to think of it, of any of it, and so Talla's company -however annoying it may have been, was a growing necessity to his state of denial. Or perhaps it was folly in itself, perhaps if he was given the chance to rethink his actions he would have made the call to turn back. But he knew he was no good at making the tough calls, that was Jon's job.

He couldn't imagine him dead, not without all his limbs crumbling underneath him, and so he decided that for the time being -he wasn't. For the time being, Jon was just a portrait in Sam's head. But as he spotted the first signs of Castle Black, he remembered that it was all about to be crushed -regardless of whether he wanted to face it or not.

"Talla?" He asked, half wanting to be distracted and half wanting to make sure she was still alive.

"Hmm?" She answered after she had pulled herself out of her stormy daze. Her voice was still very little and he could barely here it over the blowing wind.

"That's Castle Black over there, can you see it?" He watched as her eyes moved from the East to the North, where they were facing. Her face barely moved, except for her eyebrows of only jumped lazily in recognition. In all truth he would have thought that the sight of Castle Black would have been a little more...overwhelming to her. _Not even a gasp, or an excited "oh"?_

"You know for someone who's barely left Horn Hill you don't seem all that excited to see the most impressive monument in Westeros." He nudged her with a smile, hoping to coax the same out of her. They had only been riding for a little less than three weeks, but her face devoid of her upturned mouth did not sit well with him. She did not seem like herself without it.

"I'm just cold" He could only sympathise with her. He had had far more body fat on him than she did when he had first arrived at the Wall, and it was still unbearable to sleep at night.

"Well it won't get any warmer when he get there. Do you want to sit in the carriage?"

"No," she replied immediately, whipping her head to him and then turning back in embarrassment, "I want to stay with you." And then she returned her little head to rest perfectly on his shoulders and looped her hand through his. Even without looking he could feel her eyes drooping.

"Look, no matter what happens about Jon when we get there," He tried to fill the silence with his own ramblings, "let's not forget that Castle Black is not a woman's place. It's why I had to get Gilly out of there. You're to be careful at all times and you'll not be walking about by yourself without me or..or someone else I trust with you. Is that understood?" He never imagined he'd be the one giving orders.

"Mhm" was all she replied as she placed another hand over his and curled closer into him, searching for a warmth she didn't have with his fur gone.

Her breath slowed and her grip tightened, and when Sam looked over her again her lips were blue. She was too cold, and she hadn't had enough to eat to warm her.

"Talla" he tried to shake her awake but she did not respond.

He tightened his grip on the reins as he ordered the horses faster, they were only breaths away from Castle Black.

 _Just hold on till then,_ he silently prayed.

* * *

 **Jon**

"Open the gates!" He heard Pyp yell, and he grew suddenly annoyed that he had given explicit permission not to open the outer gates for anyone. Everything felt more irritating now, and his patience was shorter and shorter with each passing day. He could not explain it, and everyone else was too scared to blame him for it.

Shortly after he had awaken -he was not yet sure what to call it, after the initial shock and ensuing blood bath he had tried to find Melisandre. She was nowhere to be found in the Wall and he had even sent riders out to scour for her -but it was like she had disappeared into thin air. With Stannis's army gone and destroyed there was not another place that Jon could think of to look for her -but he knew he had to find her. He needed to _know_ what she had done to him. He needed to know whether he was still him or something else.

"Pyp!" He yelled from his station, scowling deeply and placing his hand on his hips.

"It's Sam!" He yelled back with his eyes wide and his ears somehow moving, "It's Sam!"

The smile that graced Pyp's face was one he had not seen for weeks, and so was the one on his own. He had never thought he'd see Sam again, at least not for a long while. _He's supposed to be at the Citadel,_ he frantically thought, _he's not supposed to be anywhere near here -he's not even supposed to be in Westeros._ And yet he apparently was. Another miraculous return at the Wall and all under the same moon. He half expected his uncle Benjen to come strolling in after a mighty long range.

He rushed down the stairs and towards the gate. The screechy defense rolled away and as sure as it was cold; it was Sam.

 _Where did he get a carriage?_

He heard the younger boys cheer for him, but his face was only allowed a moment's joy before it flipped back to desperation, and it was only then that the mass curled into his friend was not just a blanket or some extra weight -it was a person.

"I need help!" He called, and this time Jon's feet did not fail him as he was the first to rush to his side. He reached out to pull back the furs keeping the unidentified person prisoner but before he could he felt Sam's large grip on his arm.

" _Jon,"_ he cried, and in that moment Jon forgot that he had ever died and come back. A stray tear stayed captive in Sam's paling eye as he looked upon his friend, hovering over him like a ghost, "You're alright. I knew you'd be alright."

And before he could respond, not knowing if he even could, Sam reached down and clasped his shoulder tightly ;pulling him in for a tight -but thankfully short, embrace. When he pulled away, still not able to speak, he registered the recollection on Sam's face.

"Oh Gods, Talla. I need you to help me get her down." Sam rushed, sniffling slightly in the process -which both Jon and the rest of the men huddled around him chose to ignore, instead choosing to focus their attention back on this "Talla" creature.

Sam carefully peeled back the fur to reveal the person underneath it. _Talla,_ he thought. Her hair was unsuccessfully bound to control due to the wild wind and it randomly fell frenzied around her round face. Her eyes were closed and her lips blue, signs that she was slipping to the cold. _A wildling,_ he thought at first but then realised that there was no way a wildling woman would be a wearing a dress -even one was meager as the one she was wearing. There was an underlying glow to her skin; even when it had become to pale and lifeless, one that Jon recognized signified that there was no way she was Northborn.

"I need to get her warm" Sam muttered nervously, his own teeth chattering loudly. It was then that Jon registered that Sam didn't have his fur on.

As Sam peeled the girl off the rider's seat and into his arms Jon removed his own cloak and placed it around her.

"Pyp!" He called, commanding control with his thunderous voice and within half a second Pyp had appeared -his ears standing to attention.

"Go get Sam a cloak. Grenn, get a fire started in Sam's room and a bucket of water on the boil." He ordered as he was already walking away with Sam.

He lead him swiftly through the training yard with a hand on his shoulder like he had somehow forgotten where everything was, and when Sam almost dropped the girl as they climbed up the stairs he wordlessly grabbed her from him and continued on the rest of the way to Sam's room. Her skin was cold, far cold than he had felt in a long while, but her mouth was moving slightly and he felt the vibration of her soft grumbles against his neck -he would not have been able to hear them otherwise, so that meant that she was still holding on. Her neck fell flailing as he bounced up the steps and rushed to the room and Jon noted the constellation of beauty marks that dotted her small neck. _A girl like you doesn't belong at the Wall._

They burst into Sam's room and laid her on his bed, still infested with furs, as Grenn followed behind them swiftly with logs in his hand and Jon heard the heavy pitter patter of Ghost entering and approaching.

Ghost had been careful to not leave Jon's side since the incident. They had locked him up -trapped him, so he couldn't stop harm from coming to his master. They didn't have the courage to kill Ghost, they could not kill the beast when he was not as defenseless as their Lord Commander.

And per his newly reformed attachment Ghost huddled closely to Jon as he simultaneously examined and sniffed at the near lifeless body lying in the low bed before them.

The previously cold room was now warming, slowly but surely, and Jon stepped back slightly to watch as Sam fussed over the girl he had brought, trying to understand who she was and what she meant to Sam. After a few minutes had passed he looked around and found that the group of them were just standing there and observing the whole exchange.

"Everyone out." He ordered, and they all wordlessly obeyed, though this time they did take longer to do so. He caught Grenn's eye watching the figure on the bed as he left and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at him. He knew that look very well -fear of the unknown. _This is why women don't belong at the Wall._ It seemed that as soon as one woman leaves the Wall another is bound to take her place.

"Sam," He said gently, far more gentle than he had done in a while, "who is she?"

As soon as Sam had undone the woman's hair and settled a blanket over her cold hands he turned to Jon without meeting his eyes,

"It's my sister." If multiple stab wounds could not kill Jon he wondered is this would.

"Your _sister_? You have a _sister_?"

Sam looked back and forth between them, and that nervous laugh that was almost signature to him finally made its return. Before he could answer Jon had interrupted him once more,

"Why would you bring her here? Why are _you_ here? Where's Gilly, Sam?" His voice was slowly rising without him realizing it and the blood was rushing to his brain as he came to the understanding that _Randyll Tarly's_ daughter was at the Wall under his watch.

"Look I...I.. I didn't know she was coming I was already a day's ride away from Horn Hill when I found her in the carriage and...and I had to leave Gilly and the baby at Horn Hill with mother and-"

"What are you doing _here_ Sam?" He asked almost pleading. Sam was on his way to a better life, to be a better man and get the knowledge he had always wanted. He was going to be a Maester and return here and help people the way Maester Aemon did. He was supposed to be _safe_ , and away from the Wall -at least for a while, away from the Whites and the betrayal and the cold. Why in all the Seven Hells was he back here?

"I got a letter." He replied, almost like he was forcing the words out as he stared on into the newly pitched fire. "They said...they said you were dead." And his words were so choked back that it made Jon wonder how long he had kept that to himself for.

No longer in need of any more words, Jon understood. He had come back for him, to fight for whatever it was he would have found to be left of him.

"You're not tired of bringing women to the Wall?"

"What happened here, Jon?" It was a strange turning of the tables -Jon was trying to humor his way out of talking and Sam was being serious. He could see how silly he may have looked now.

"Come to the study, let your sister sleep."

"No, I can't leave her like this."

"Alright." He said with a voice that had now returned to fairly normal levels. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and took a seat, to Sam's surprise. But he did not miss the small smile carving its way through Sam's mouth as he took a chair of his own and sat on the other side of the bed facing Jon.

He looked back at the girl, _Talla,_ closely inspected her face. She looked kind, even with her brows held together by an invisible band of perplexity, and with her hair loose it looked as if she was lying in a mud river -he could physically see her thawing out as the soft light of the fire melted through her initial iciness and her features slowly came together.

"She looks a little like you." He said as he finally looked back at Sam, who was now wearing his small smile on his face once more.

"Don't say that while she's awake."

They laughed. And though there was still a hollow in Jon that he did not yet know how to fill, it felt good to laugh.

.

* * *

 **Talla**

All she could remember was slowly fading away before she heard men yelling and hands like fire clutching her tightly. She heard two men talking as she lay down, the sudden warmth burning her frosted fingers before she fell back into the dark.

She dreamed of a man in blue with night leaving his lips and pure ice in his eyes. He circled her over and over again, keeping her on edge as she watched and waited for his attack. And then after what felt like centuries he leaped over her like a feral feline and hovered over her as he watched, with ever blue and ever glowing eyes before he opened his mouth and a cave of crystals showed itself to her. She reached up to examine the shards of glowing ice and pricked her finger on their sharpened points and the pain in her fingers traveled through her and jolted her to waken.

She was a in a room now, _on a bed_ , but the unfamiliarity of the room threw her off before she could rejoice at being horizontal again. She climbed her way out of the thick furs piled over her and looked around profusely for any sign of life -there was none. The fire burned intensely from where she was sat and she got out of the bed and settled herself in front of the fireplace to allow her face and fingers to enjoy the warm glow of the flames.

She soon grew bored, and she did not forget that she still didn't know where they were. How could she be sure they had gotten to Castle Black? And where was her brother? _Had someone done something to him? Why isn't he here?_ The warmth suddenly only fueled her ensuing panic and she found her feet -suddenly strong with rest, marching to the door as she grabbed whichever fur her hands had landed on.

The latch on the door was shaky but with a push Talla had managed to burst the door open. She stood in between the stifling warmth of the room and harsh and dry cold of the outside. She wasn't sure what she was looking at, but it was quite close to whatever she had imagined the Wall to be.

She heard noise, men's laughter and out of tune singing, come from underneath her and she held the railing tightly as she looked down to find a group of drunken men in black rumbling the night away -she also did not miss the lone man standing to the side of them pissing on the snow. But even as she looked through all of their faces while they were still oblivious to her existence it was clear that Sam was not with them. She looked to her side as she heard a soft movement and her eyes blurred with shock as an unidentified sound left her mouth at the sight.

It was a wolf. A huge white wolf staring right at her with his eyes a deep red. She stood completely still -unable to move as the wolf approached her slowly and sniffed at her dress. And then strangely, as if it could sense Talla's fear, it rubbed its head onto her knee and thigh as he sat by her side. She had to grab the railings next to her just to hold still and she feared her lower lip would be bloody after all the pressure her teeth had been applying to it. She could feel the stares from beneath her but no one said anything, it was silent except for the quiet panting of the wolf and the controlled breaths of panic coming from Talla.

The wolf pushed closer to her and she squealed once more at the contact before it lifted its head up to look at her once more and open its mouth. Though Talla could see all of its sharp and usually frightening teeth she couldn't help but feel that it looked like a normal dog from this angle. She never got the opportunity to relax, though, because before she could do that another door burst open and she once again tightened her grip on the railing as she anticipated the upcoming exits.

To her relief it was Sam that stepped out of the room to her left and she could finally exhale at the first sign of familiarity. He was closely followed by a man with dark hair and dark eyes, his frown seemingly ingrained into his face. The dark haired man placed on hand on his hip, revealing a sword with a white handle on it -Talla could still not make out what its shape was, and he whistled in the direction of the beast currently invading Talla's personal space.

"Ghost, come here" And the wolf immediately left Talla's side to stand next to what was apparently his master.

"Talla what are you doing out here?!" Sam exclaimed at her, not doing a good job at diverting the attentions of the onlookers.

"I...I...You weren't there." A painful look of regret crossed Sam's faice and Talla almost winced at how weak her statement made her sound.

"Let's get you back inside." He stated, and Talla understood that at least for now it was not her place to argue.

They both stepped inside carefully, like they were watching out for something that may have hidden inside, and he placed a cautious hand on her elbow as he led her to the bed. To her surprise the wolf once again sought her out and made its way to her bed side. Her feet stood alert as it sat by them, rubbing its head once again to her. Talla audibly held her breath and looked to Sam desperately, wondering whether she was at all wrong for fearing the beast.

"It's alright, he won't hurt you." Sam smiled reassuringly and she found it in her to exhale.

"What is it?" She asked, the remnants of the cold still shaking through her voice.

"He's a direwolf." She heard a voice say, a voice that was not the same exact voice she had been hearing for the past eighteen days, a voice that was not Sam's.

She looked to the source and found the same dark haired man she had seen behind her brother was standing in the room, she supposed she was far too preoccupied worrying about the direwolf at her feet to notice anyone else slip in.

Sam looked between the two and duly made to introduce them.

"Talla this is Lord Commander Snow, the one I was telling you about." Realisation dawned on her at the mention of the name.

"You're Jon?" She mustered up some excitement and smiled, "Sam's told me so much about you."

He did not smile back.

"Can't say the same" She chose to ignore his sour comment and instead looked back at the mass of white fur placing its paws on her lap and sniffing at her hands.

Hesitantly -and still feeling eyes boring into her, she reached out to touch the creatures and her hands were lost in a pile of white. It licked her hand enthusiastically and rubbed up closer to her and she giggled at the giddiness of such a formidable looking creature.

"Does he have a name?" She fleetingly turned and asked, not knowing who her question was even directed to.

"Ghost." Answered the deadpan Lord Commander.

"How cheerful" she said without looking at him. Instead, she continued, "Sam's very happy you seem to be in good health, aren't you Sam?" It was a question directed at Sam but it felt like she was addressing Ghost.

"He's not a pet" was all he muttered and she whipped her head back wondering how such an affectionate creature could have such a miserable master -which was a shame because he was a fairly handsome man.

Before she knew it her face was red and she felt all the feelings come over her -the fact that she was away from home and that all of this had probably been a terrible idea, the fact that she was intruding and she didn't belong her and she was probably far more trouble than they needed all flooded over her and the only thing she could to was spill her words out in response.

"Someone's not very happy to be alive" She said, trying to keep her voice as even and indifferent as she could.

Jon Snow just blinked slowly at her, and a small victorious smile crept up on him as Talla could see from the side of her vision that Sam was merely standing there with a horrified expression on his face.

"I'll leave Ghost to stand guard by your door. You have a good night, M'Lady. We'll talk more in the morning." And with the whirl of his cloak, as black as his eyes, he was out into the cold once more.

* * *

 **"dang lol talla is kept away from jon most of the time cause they catching up with sam n shit"**

 **The above, ladies and gentlemen, was my initial chapter summary for this. You gotta start somewhere!**

 **Stay tuned for the next chapter where we'll see Talla and Jon's true(ish) colours around each other.**


	4. A Clash of Horns

**A/N: ****Let's tackle all the questions and points about last chapter, shall we? (I prefer addressing reviews on the chapter because I feel like an explanation would help anyone else that is reading it).**

 **First of all let me address that I am _sorry_ for the cliche of A Stark's direwolf being a cinnamon roll to said Stark's potential love interest but it just _works._ Talla is scared and unsure and confused and Jon is kinda just gonna push her buttons so Ghost being her buddy is not only much needed but a giant F U to the Lord Commander -and you'll see why Talla needs that traction in upcoming chapters.**

 **megabill: I'm so glad you're enjoying this story and that it's a better fit for you than my other one -everyone and their cup of tea right? And yeah, nothing says "I love my bff" like making bad decisions huh? I am pleased to say that you get your wish in this chapter! Jon and Talla properly speak so I hope you are prepared!**

 **Dread Knight N7: I think Olly was just one of those characters that came on and pissed everyone off from the get go, and I was personally picturing his death ever since I had to literally watch him stab my baby angel. So maybe I was just a _little_ selfish -but still. Pre-death Jon Snow would have probably killed Olly for the same reason -he just would have spent a whole day brooding about making the decision first. Post-death Jon? Yeah, not much. I like that you've picked up on the bond between the siblings. I didn't want to go too hard about it since they obviously hadn't seen each other in years and if Talla was so close to Sam he would have mentioned her more, but I like that they are sort of a reflection of one another and that's what binds them. And omg the dragon replacement stuff has definitely pissed me off in many cases. Ghost is _Ghost_ , you can't replace him -plus I also think that locking him up was probably the only reason he wasn't there to rip the brothers to shreds. And without giving too much away I think it is safe to let you know that no -it most definitely will not be love at first sight with these two. But she will forge her way through the Wall -and Jon's heart in typical Tarly fashion.**

 **Hellequinn7: Ghost sure is a ball of fur when he's not tearing shit up is he? I needed him to love Talla, I think he can sense she's related to Sam. And you'll see a lot more of darker Jon -though i'm not sure that hole in him can ever be filled.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **.**

* * *

 **Jon**

He was beginning to think that he much preferred to be in Talla Tarly's presence when she was unconscious, for with all her wits about her she certainly was anything but easy to handle -especially to Jon.

Jon supposed if he were someone else he would have blamed himself for how their not-so-quiet meeting was going with Sam mediating, _badly might I add_ , between them. But Jon would stand firmly to his own ground -even with the young lady staring holes into his face from across his desk.

After their short conversation the night before he felt strange -strange in the sense that there was an inkling of pleasure to be had in irritating his surprising guest. It was a feeling Jon was sure he had never felt before. Being a source of irritation, an inconvenience, was something he had grown up feeling guilty of because of Lady Catelyn's disdain for him, and so in every move he made he had tried to be _less_. Less trouble, less of an inconvenience, less than nothing - _invisible_. He had resigned himself to it, he would be the man no one would see. But it surprised him to _enjoy_ getting under the Lady's skin -and he was sure that she deserved it. She had that same easy humour that Sam had, but he noticed that she was a little bolder than he had expected any sister of Sam's to be.

But it wasn't with any pleasure that he decided to take immediate action on the situation. Sam had explained the situation to him in further detail when they sat together the night before and though he _wanted_ to sympathise with Sam over the difficult position he had been forced into, he knew that Sam should still not have brought her there.

 _Why is she here?_ He had asked Sam that very same question the night before, but his answer was no answer.

" _I found her in my carriage_ " As Jon mulled it over in his head while he lay sleepless, feeling particularly unarmed at the knowledge that Ghost was not by his side, he realised that Sam's answer only explained the question of _How_ she managed to get to the Wall. _What is she running from?_

Still lying half asleep, he tried to imagine what he would have done if it was his own sister that had begged him to take her away. His first thought was that he would lift her up to his horse and shield her to safety, but then he thought of the day he took his vows and reconsidered just what duty was -and which would he honour when push came to shove? He was not so sure anymore. Robb was dead, and perhaps he would not be if Jon had chosen family over the Black. It was with that thought that Jon tried to redirect his thoughts to whichever one of his sisters he was now facing the prospect of turning his back on and he found that he could not conjure up either one of their images from his memory. Even Arya -whose face he remembered seeing just before everything became so terribly dark, was just a faceless mess of muddy hair and baggy clothes, and he fell asleep trying to remember things he had lost after the fire.

When he woke, it was with a renewed sense of purpose. And that renewed sense of purpose was probably to blame for the upcoming, and very unpleasant, conversation he was about to have to a certain brown haired Lady.

She walked into his study that morning looking much the same as she did the night before -same dress, same cloak wrapped about her, same unsure gaze, but her hair was wrapped back into a tight braid and her eyes were more awake. If he had not already been annoyed by the fact that she was even _there_ to begin with and her father would want Sam's head for it then his irritation was only amplified by the fact that Ghost seemed to immediately perk up at her entrance.

And so the first words that left his lips before she could even curtly bow to greet him were,

"You can't stay."

For someone clearly in the wrong with not even a good leg to stand on, the indignant look she gave to his statement was one he did not think she had a right to give.

"I beg your pardon?" She did not bother taking a seat while Sam did, looking exasperatingly between them once more.

"J-Jon just means...we should all talk abou-" but his words were immediately interrupted by the both of them.

"There is nothing to talk about" He said with a rising voice as her own voice rose simultaneously, "I think Jon can speak for himself"

They were trapped in a childish contest as they remained staring at each other in silence, both of them obviously seething, and he Jon wondered to himself how he had allowed _her_ to get under _his_ skin.

"The Wall is no place for a girl" _Or a woman. A woman like you._

Her lips twitched in response with anything but humour.

"So I keep hearing." Her shoulders calmed visibly from her previously tense posture, and the grip he had not realised she had on the chair opposite him sagged as she took a step away from it. She looked calm, even resigned, as opposed to her earlier stance just moments ago.

"Out of curiosity, where am I to go?" She asked with a hint of taunt in her question as she proceeded to walk around the small room.

"Back to Horn Hill." He ground out, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of his attention.

She nodded thoughtfully,

"And, how many men do you plan to send with me once you've ordered my return?" _Why was that any of her concern?_

"Enough to ensure your safe arrival, my Lady." She turned sharply then,

"And how many men exactly do you have at your disposal at the Wall?"

He was fuming with indignity at this point -he would not be taunted by a little girl running away from home.

"Enough."

"Enough for the Whites, Lord Commander?" She threw back.

Jon finally turned to Sam again with wide eyes and found that his friend held an apologetic expression.

"It was a long ride up here, Jon." He tried to explain to his wordless question.

He turned his head back to the woman who was now quickly proving to be the bane of his existence - _as if I did not have enough of those already,_ and made to answer but before he could she held up her hand to signify she would be doing the speaking for now.

"Correct me if I am mistaken but it seems to me that with the current threat against, well, humanity, you don't seem to be in a position to spare your men to escort a _girl_ home. But then again, what do I know?" The eyebrow she raised to him was a playful one, but Jon was in the mood for anything but.

He considered her words in silence, not venturing to look back at her without something that would snap her back.

"Sam could take you, he has to return south anyway."

"Yes Sam why don't you take me? It's not like it's the complete opposite direction of the Citadel. But I suppose you can afford to take a detour with no other Maester at the Wall."

"What is it that you want here my Lady?"

"You needn't worry about that, Lord Commander."

"Your wants are what put us in this position."

"There are wants and there are facts, Jon Snow, and the _facts_ are that you can't send me away right now. _Another_ fact is that I can help. I can cook, I can clean, and dress wounds and heal well enough. So why not put me to good use while you're stuck with me?" And with that she triumphantly placed her hands on her hips and graced the both of them with a wide smile. Even Sam looked half convinced.

Jon sighed to himself, _it seems there is no shortage of Southron women coming to the wall to run away from something. They will never know what a commoner or base-born would give to do their duties in exchange for a life in shame that they will never understand._

He could not argue with her logic; he didn't have the men to spare nor could Sam further delay his own journey. Jon was not adversarial in nature -he never thought so. But Jon found that he would rather walk the Seven Hells carrying on his shoulder all the men he had ever killed in shoes of shit than admit defeat to the woman. He had reignited the fire.

"And can you fight?" She was about to respond while rolling her eyes at him but, taking a page from her book, he did not let her.

"Sword or arrow? Can you avoid an enemy's attack? Do you know what the sound of screaming men is like? Can you pull an arrow out of your friend's heart? Can you lift? Can you pull stacks of bricks from one end of the castle to the other? Can you stand watch, all night, staring out at the pitch black nothing? Those are the skills needed here. Women don't belong at the Wall." His voice was threateningly low and his gaze darkened beyond his own recognition.

His words had spurred right into her, but she did not look away. Something was struck down in her, surely, but it seemed that she as well did not want to give him the satisfaction of admittance to him.

"Congratulations, Jon Snow. You are a much better man than I." And with that and a turn of that same old muddied skirt, Talla Tarly had left the Lord Commander's study with a large thump in her step and Ghost hot on her heels -it seemed even his own direwolf agreed with the imposing Lady.

The wind blew cold through the room -she had purposely not bothered to close it behind her, though Jon currently doubted whether the very structure would hold up under a slamming door coming from such an angered woman.

Sam looked to him almost sheepishly then,

"She's not always like that."

"You know what we have to do, don't you Sam?" His friend winced at his implication, it seems there was one thing his sister had not thought of.

He pulled out a new piece of parchment from his drawer and addressed it to Randyll Tarly.

 _If the Lady can't be taken back to Horn Hill then Horn Hill will come to her._

 _._

* * *

 **Talla**

The Gall on _that_ man had left her seething -but mostly embarrassed.

Talla was not prone to outbursts, and she would have liked to attest that she was truly a pleasant person, but the way Jon had spoken to her with such...condescension struck a chord within her and she felt like she had been buried under ice.

She knew why, of course, but she hated that she knew. She wasn't used to being spoken to like that by anyone but her father. Randyll Tarly always somehow knew something she didn't, and he always managed to make her feel like she was unworthy for it. Although she knew that she was not the only one to get the bitter end of him. It seemed he had nothing but bitter ends. Not even Dickon was privy to a sweeter end. And Jon, _Jon Jon Jon, name as short as his temper,_ reminded her that she was nothing. Nothing but a name declaring who she belonged to.

His words may have been harsh, but they were not devoid of some truth to Talla. She could change chamber pots all she liked here at the Wall, but what good was she to any one? _What am I doing here?_

She felt like nothing. And she hated herself even more for knowing that she had allowed someone else to reduce her to that. She was weak, she was still so weak.

She stood solemnly facing the snow dusted stairs and barely held back the choking tears threatening to leave her. She would have cried loudly and in an ugly fashion had Ghost not been there. Talla found a strange strength in herself as her hands travelled into the beast's white fur. _At least you like me._ She thought, _How happy will your master be about that?_

It gave her some solace to know that if she hadn't definitely succeeded in agitating the man then the fact that his direwolf followed after her must have done the trick for her. Not that it was Talla's mission to agitate him. _Not yet at least._

Finally bracing herself to look around where she was standing, she settled on the sight of the very same carriage she had no recollection of riding in on standing harshly in the cold light of day -slumped in exhaustion and untouched. Talla made to wipe her barely spilt tears away and walked over briskly to the carriage whilst trying not to slip on the new ice on the ground. When she opened the carriage door she found that, just as she had expected, it was untouched, and her eyes quickly darted to the almost forgotten about object she had hidden under one of the seats.

Deciding that it was probably safer in her room -or Sam's room, whichever it was, she reached into the carriage without another pause and grabbed the leather wrap before anyone else could.

Her way back to the chamber was speedy but unsuspicious -not like anyone was watching her. _Yet,_ she had to remind herself, _let's not forget you're the only woman here._

With that reminder in her train of thought as she opened the door to her room she allowed herself to get angry at Jon Snow once more. _I'm not a girl._ She would have thought her figure would have said so. _Or perhaps you'd need a better look, Lord Commander._ She couldn't help the smirk that crept onto her face at the thought. Jon Snow probably had no idea what to do with a naked woman. And that was not to say that Talla herself had any knowledge of what to do with a naked man should she happen upon one -but that was neither here nor there.

Talla looked around silently just to inspect that the truly was empty, and felt strangely disappointed that Ghost was not with her. The fear of Sam -or anyone, walking in any moment drove her to hastily walk over to the bed she lay in the night before and she dropped to her knees in order to lift the mattress up slightly. With one hand steadily lifting the mattress and the other reaching for the object, she braved one last look at the shiny steel peaking out of it.

She had never been allowed to touch it before. Talla didn't even know why she took it. Perhaps it was some sort of insurance, perhaps it was another rule to break. But Talla knew that there was one thing that Randyll Tarly treasure -one symbol of honour and greatness that came above everything else, and that was his greatsword - _their_ greatsword; Heartsbane.

Almost regretfully she placed the sword to where it was meant to be for now -laid to rest under a bed. She wondered for a moment if it would do them any good here, it _was_ Valyrian steel after all -and wasn't that the only thing that could kill Whites?

Waving the thought away, she got up with a loud huff and left the room once more to return to the carriage, not missing the presence of a certain direwolf on her trail. She leaned in roughly and grabbed whatever crates her arms would carry and set them out by the carriage as the thought about what could be done with them. Her mind raced with possibilities until she realised that she had forgotten one important detail.

As her swearing mutterings slowly left her while she faced the sky Talla felt a hand rest on her shoulder and she jumped at the sudden feeling.

"Sorry, Talla." It was only Sam. _It's only Sam._

Instead of scolding him for what she wanted to -he had not been the biggest of helps during their little meeting but she supposed she could not ask Sam for anymore, she turned their conversation to where her thoughts had already headed themselves.

"Where are the food stores?" She asked accusingly, like it had to be information he handed her on the spot.

As expected, he curled his brow in confusion and his little eyes glimmered in curiosity.

"Why-?" _Even I am getting tired of interrupting you, brother._

"I need to take note of the stores you already have so that I know how to ration the ones here." She explained as she motioned lazily to the half of the supplies that she had moved out of the carriage.

He looked at her despairingly, but Talla did not waver, she continued to look at him like he was the one being remiss even though her legs were too shaky to stand on -but if there was one thing she knew it was that if you wanted to get something done you had to show everyone you were not afraid to do it.

With a sigh of defeat, Sam motioned his head for Talla to follow him and he led her down to the food stores -which he had failed to mention were in fact in the _vaults_. She chose to walk by his side instead of behind him -somehow she did not want to shy away from this place. _It's almost as if it can feel it._

As Talla had suspected -the food stores did not look at all in favour of the brothers meant to survive off of it. She knew from the first glance that she would have to pickle and preserve almost all of what was brought up with them to get them through the next few moons. Making a mental note in her mind of all the different ways she could go about the situation she turned on her heels and left the room with purpose; and Sam followed much in the same way she knew he would.

Although she was now somehow leading the walk she still had no idea how to get to where she wanted to go next.

"Can you help me take the supplies to the kitchen?" She asked trying to add some honey to her voice. Sam stopped in his tracks.

When she turned to face him it was now _he_ was rolling his eyes at her exasperatingly.

"What would you need in the _kitchens_ Talla?"

"I'm sorry Sam but how am I supposed to work on preserving the food from the room?" She asked as her eyes narrowed -it was, firm logic after all.

Without another word Sam continued his way and she somehow knew he would do what she asked; perhaps it was because she had asked so nicely.

But the rest of their way was plagued with silence, and Talla knew that Sam's heart was heavy with questions. She was just not sure she was ready to answer any of them.

"You know you can't stay." His voice was small. _It seemed everyone wants to remind me of that today._

"I know." She almost whispered back, "but I can stay _for now_."

He finally stopped and turned to her suddenly,

"What's father going to sa-"

"He can't say anything! Mother won't tell him, and if she does she'll have to tell him about you and Gilly and the baby and what do you suppose he'll do to you or _them_ then?" Her head was in a flurry, but she couldn't stop.

"When the time is right you can write to him saying _whatever_ you want and you can use that to ransom me. You're short on men and supplies. I'm sure he'll send some for his daughter. Lord Tarly can't have a daughter as well as a son at the Wall, can he?"

Even Talla was almost taken aback by her argument; it seems she had an untapped talent for rhetoric. Though, she had to admit, her sweet brother was too pressing of an opponent.

As for her sweet brother, he just looked at her blankly, once again digesting the sense she was trying to make to him.

"You really are Randyll Tarly's daughter." He muttered out, and even in the dark she could see the small smile etch its way to his round face.

"I would not be here if I wasn't."

* * *

 **Samwell**

She stood their making her case - _fighting_ for her case, and Sam could not help but admire the little fires he could see growing in her eyes. _She is made for this._ He shook the thought away, knowing that thinking that implied something his conscience was not yet ready to admit.

" _She'll take up resources that we don't have to spare."_

 _"Resources?"_

 _"We're barely stocked for food as it is Sam."_

 _"Oh don't worry about Talla. Never had much of an appetite, that one. At least not after father."_

Jon hadn't laughed at that, and Sam didn't find it all that funny. Being kept away from so many dinners had killed Talla's appetite, and every time he thought of it it made him sick that it was the result of such expectations of them. Even on their journey up she had barely made a dent in her food -which explained her quick succumbing to the cold.

He took her to the kitchens as the morning grew to noon and watched over her as she carefully rationed and reasoned with the food she had on hand -even setting them aside for lunch that day. He watched her make pickles and salted ham and fold all her concoctions neatly into bags and boxes -a stark difference to the mess left in the kitchen from the day before.

The Watch kept up as well as it could -it survived, but it hadn't really thrived when it came to matters of stewardship. Castle Black itself was a mess -undermanned and under-managed. Even Dolorous Edd, who was reassigned to Long Barrow to handle the spearwives, was not present to help with the situation.

He supposed Jon _did_ have enough on his plate to worry about, making the Wall run just a little smoother was not his highest priority at the moment -so surely there was no harm in letting Talla help while she was still here?

Sam still felt guilty about the letter. It was true that he had agreed to the matter without much hesitation, but he was racked with guilt and fear over what might happen the whole time Jon's quill kissed the parchment.

They had conveniently left out the mention of Gilly and baby Sam, and while Sam did feel the need to protect them he was also ashamed of his cowardice. It almost felt like he was selling out his sister, throwing her on the black for her head to come off instead of his. But Jon knew as well as he did that his father would have worse than his head if he knew of Sam's part -even if it had nothing to do with Talla's escape to the Wall.

Conveniently for him also, he and Jon both agreed to make no mention of any letter and let Talla continue on with whatever it was she had set about on doing. Their reasoning was that they feared -judging from her previous record, that she would do something drastic yet again in trying to escape whatever hold her father had on her. _Maybe she'd marry a wildling,_ he almost chuckled at the thought. Talla had always had a dislike for facial hair. _Perhaps that is why she doesn't like Jon._

He worried for Talla, truly, but his father would never hurt her. _Would he?_ Sam had nothing but hope that Randyll Tarly held a certain softness for his daughters to stop him from falling apart with worry.

Sam had never thought himself a protector, but he was all Talla had. _I am always everyone's last bet._ He knew he had to leave and with it leave the watch of his sister to his closest friend. Somehow, despite the growing animosity between the two, Sam knew Jon would take care of her. Jon always held his duty high on his shoulders, and Sam wondered whether now he was doing the same.

Her small frame bent and picked up at the efforts she was straining and Sam was content to sit their and watch her huff and puff and occasionally wipe at her brow until she spoke once more without looking at him.

"That friend of yours is not what I expected."

"What did you expect then?" He questioned curiously.

"I don't know, someone _nicer_ perhaps."

"Jon's nice. You just can't be Lord Commander _and_ nice to everyone."

"Look at you, teaching me the hard truths of the world." She joked casually, and it surprised Sam the ease in which their conversation had flowed thus far.

Neither Talla nor him were particularly good talkers; but he supposed two wrongs made a right.

"They don't call me Sam the Slayer for nothing."

"I'm curious to know what else they call you up here." They laughed at that, and he realised that her laugh was so unfamiliar to him -he could rarely recall a moment where he had heard it before.

"Jon's not always like that, you know."

"Then what is he like?" She humoured him.

"He's a good friend to have. You'll find that out for yourself once I-"

"Once you go again?" She had stopped moving, and her voice was suddenly small again. Sam did not usually like hearing that tone of voice from her; it didn't suit her.

"The Watch needs a Maester." He placed one hand hesitantly on her shoulder, "and an old slob like me is the best chance they have of getting one." To that she chuckled airily and he felt the mood slowly lift once more.

She looked back at him then, cheeks alive with blush and a small smile,

"Aren't you going to help me then?" She teased, and he smiled with warmth as he approached his table while taking off his gloves.

"Tell me what to do."

* * *

 **"lmao they fightin, resurrected jon is not pleasant (like he was just breezy before he got stabbed a million times by a kid lolz)"**

 **Once again, such an eloquent chapter summary by yours truly. Stay tuned for next chapter -things will really be picking up.**

 **Review review review and tell me what you think!**


	5. Commander Snow

**A/N: Hello hello! I'm surprised I posted this chapter so soon since I usually post a chapter of my other story before continuing with this one but I had sooo many ideas for this that I couldn't keep it in. This is quite a full chapter and definitely darker from what we've seen before so if you're not into that then...proceed with caution.**

 **megabill: I'm excited as well as scared to see what they do with Sam's family in Season 6. I've built so much of it up in my head that I can't imagine anything other than what I have made canon!**

 **Dread Knight N7: Trust me, Talla - _and Jon_ for that matter, have a soft side. It's just a matter of time, patience and a little more manipulation on my end to make it happen ;).I'm very glad the sibling's relationship is picked up on since I know it's not the "star" relationship of the fic but I did put a lot of thought into it to make it realistic and i'm glad that it got noticed. And yeah -if Randyll Tarly knew that Heartsbane wasn't tucked deeply away he would tear shit up. But, for the sake of the fic, Heartsbane going missing has still not been noticed which is a contradiction to my other fic where Randyll Tarly literally won't even have his sword polished without him being present.**

* * *

 **Jon**

As Jon sat by the stoked fire in his room that night he pondered whether anything in his life made sense. His life was nothing but a collection of hardness and miseries with maybe a few warm smiles and brief bout of intimacy between them -that was all. He would never ask for things to go his way, the Old Gods were anything but merciful, but he could not help but feel exasperated at the fact that before the dust could even settle after one thing it was always turned up again for something else. _The Gods could not even send an agreeable woman to be a nuisance at least._

However, Jon had reason to believe that the extent of Talla Tarly pleasantness was subjective to him. He watched her earlier on in the day with Sam first -who seemed surprisingly at ease and happy with someone Jon had never even heard him mention before. Later on he watched as she got the men to help do her bidding; the voice that he remembered as drenched in pure fight was now dripping with sweetness and the brothers were all too happy to oblige. Even as the evening grew dark and night blew in he was surprised to find that after their initial shyness and confusion surrounding the lady most of the brothers were happy to approach her when she served dinner and she herself accepted them with an openness he did not expect to find. That was not to say, of course, that everyone was happy -Jon did not miss the sight of a few rangers sulking in the back of the common hall staring daggers into Talla, which did not bring him any ease about the situation. _Staring daggers at her is_ my _job._

And so Jon could not exactly call her _unpleasant._ She was just unpleasant to _him_ , and that was surely only because he had given her reason to be. _It's not your fault. You don't owe her anything._ He assured himself. But he had to conclude that she was, for anyone who cared to ask, a fairly nice person. And she was beautiful. _Gods damn you, Snow._ It wasn't something he could choose not to see, not when he knew what a woman could to him and how long it had been since he's had one. Her eyes were plain and brown but wide, her lips full -especially when she had them in an angry pout around him, and when he closed his eyes briefly to conjure up her image he saw the beauty spots on her neck dot a constellation in the darkness. His eyes had never lingered unless they were challenged to do so, and so he had not allowed himself to take her all in with the hopes that he could ignore the gnawing need to look upon her once more. But even if he _had_ allowed himself to look Jon was under the impression that it would hardly matter in the end. She was a nuisance to him. And another headache. And _Sam's sister_. Nothing would ever come of it. _Why am I even thinking about it?_

As long as her little chores and self assigned duties did not get in the way of the greater matter Jon had to focus on, he did not mind. In fact, he had promised Sam that outside of ensuring her safety -which he did not think would be a problem after witnessing how peculiarly well received the woman had been, _the girl, she's a girl._ Jon was going to pretend she was not even there.

Sam would be leaving the day after next, and although he had resigned himself to the truths of the matter he did not deny it was good to have him back -even for such a short time. If not for anything, then at least for the fact that he could have Ghost back in his room for two more nights. Jon hadn't made any final decisions but he knew for sure that at least until the situation became a little clearer he could only trust and _charge_ Ghost with standing guard at Talla's door at night. He hardly thought it was appropriate to start assigning shifts for that what with the morale so low -sleep deprivation does not make for a happier military order.

As he finally moved from watching the flames to stretching out on his bed he could not help but think; _what would it be like for her to smile at me?_ It was far more than peculiar for him to think about something like that. Jon had been plagued with nothing but responsibility after the trials and betrayals and war and blood all piled on top off it, but he still stopped to think what the _warmth_ felt like? He remembered Ygritte's smile, even though he could not remember her face, but he recalled the way it made him feel inside. Especially if he was the source -which he admittedly rarely was. _Kissed by fire and she was suddenly alight once more._ She, too, had been a growing pain to his backside. But she had become his and he hers, she was his _Lady_. Jon should have known he would have no Lady -and that he was no Lord. In the end, as he thoughts of Ygritte and Val and that _damned_ Talla he had no reason but to deduce that perhaps it was something about him that seemed to provoke for women like that.

She would be gone soon enough and with her all the added trouble she had been. That was all. And that was all Jon cared about. He fell asleep trying to break the lines of dots that still would not move from the darkness his closed eyes afforded.

His sleep was dreamless of course. It had been so ever since he had awakened. Jon Snow no longer dreamt.

When he woke the next morning, earlier than everyone else, he propped himself out of bed and washed his face quickly as Ghost perked up next to him and he only spared a few glances in the mirror until he caught onto how heavy all his features looked. _Surely I am too young to feel this old,_ he thought. And waving the thought away he swiftly clothed himself, layer by layer, as he had gotten used to doing by now, and made his way out to check on the Tower watches. Just as he had closed the door behind him he felt the warmth surrounding his direwolf leave him immediately and in a flash saw his white fur race to something Jon's own eyes had not yet settled upon.

When he made out what, or more accurately, who it was Ghost had hastily run to Jon wondered why he was not surprised. Talla Tarly was, apparently, an early bird as well. He sighed as he made his way to them since just last night he had sworn to avoid the girl.

It amazed Jon slightly how quickly Talla had taken to Ghost; or even how quickly Ghost had taken to her. After her initial and very obvious fear and hesitation surrounding the direwolf the lady had barely taken more than a day to make herself comfortable with him; or all the other brothers for that matter. Of course, that was made infinitely easier by the way that Ghost was somehow reduced to a pup around her. _I would have thought that my own direwolf would sense my unending irritation for the woman._

She stood there in the middle of the snowy yard wearing the same muddied dress, and Jon wondered for a moment why that was before quickly recalling that there were no other dresses on hand at the Wall -or anywhere North of Winterfell if he was being realistic.

"Morning." She greeted when she spotted him. She hadn't said it with spite in her voice or with a curl of honey to it, it was simply soft -quiet, and Jon was slightly taken aback by the unfamiliarity he felt by it.

"Morning." He replied with a nod, but no smile. _It's too early in the morning for a smile._

Talla, apparently, did not agree, for Jon spotted a swift and tight smile flash across her face.

"Sam awake too?"

"No he's-he's still asleep. I wanted to get a start on breakfast before anyone woke up." He nodded once more, awkwardly, _perhaps she'll think there's something wrong with my neck._

"I was just going to check the Towers." He stated while rubbing roughly at his brow.

"Oh, I see."

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, the only one truly excited about the conversation being Ghost as he had his mouth open and tongue out in excitement. Jon kept his hand on his sword and shifted his gaze randomly between the sky, the pretty girl's face and the ground.

"I was going to start on laundry after I was done with breakfast. Is there-is there anything you need cleaned?" He shook his head fiercely before he even had time to consider.

"No, no that's fine." And this time Talla did not let the awkwardness linger for she took a deep breath and drew out her next statement.

"There's something I need to say." _Perhaps she is apologising. I'll tell her there's no need. Perhaps I will be nicer to her._

"I couldn't help but notice a small patch of land just outside the gates, it looks fertile enough but we have enough horses to improve that." _Perhaps not._

"What are you trying to say?" He couldn't stop the accusatory tone in which his words left him, but he did not think twice as he watched her fingers fidget nervously around each other while he awaited her explanation.

"If you could give me permission I could plant our own produce, just outside the Wall. Everyone thinks the cold doesn't accommodate growth but I know that that's not true for many things." He stared at her completely dumbfounded by the initial thought of her proposal.

"You came to the Wall to _garden_?" She rolled her eyes at him but still continued on respectfully, although Jon noticed it was leaving her quite forcefully.

"If it holds we could tear down the gate blocking it from the inside and build it _around_ it so it'd be within the borders and this way we wouldn't-"

 _"We?_ M'Lady, there is no such we. _"_ She took in a deeper breath, and Jon silently braced himself for the second scolding she would give. But it never came.

"I know you don't like me. But with that aside, your men need nutrition and your stocks are running low. Now, I have rationed and preserved as much as I could as _well_ as I could, but that'll only last you some moons. This is a permanent solution, Jon." _Don't call me Jon._

"That's Commander Snow to you." Jon could physically see her resist the urge to roll her eyes at him once more as her nostrils slightly flared. Jon had to admit, she was quite adept at controlling herself. Talla was a lot less offensive to him when she wanted something; even _if_ she was trying to make it sound like it was for him. _Perhaps it is._

"I'm not asking you to do it i'm asking you to think about it. Think about your men." He cut her short.

"I do, My Lady. Every second." He nodded briskly to end the conversation, "Good day."

He brushed past her and she had the good sense not to argue any further although he could hear her sigh of exasperation. She had a point, _she seems to make a habit out of that,_ but it was something he had to think about as well as the fact that granting it would just dignify her whole presence at the Wall under his watch. He wasn't sure about being the Lord Commander who put a runaway Lady to hard labour at the Wall.

He looked back at her once more to make sure she was not staring daggers into his back and was surprised to find that Ghost had once again stuck with the Lady instead of him. It was starting to annoy Jon more than he would usually allow it to.

.

* * *

 **Samwell**

Even though nothing about their situation was ideal, Sam felt an unfamiliar pride in watching his sister succeed in such a way. Still slightly awkward and shy, _she would not be my sister if she were not,_ her easy humour and apparently noticeable efficiency was proving to be quite popular among his fellow black brothers. Of course, not everyone had found her presence to be something worth being excited about and whilst they all sat at dinner that night Sam noticed a particular group of rangers looking sour in the back of the common hall.

Despite that, Talla had made some fast friends already. Pyp and Grenn of course -who Sam had never before seen act so chivalrously before, and strangely even Ulmer had taken a shining to his sister -although Sam _did_ suspect it was because he had a soft spot for beautiful young maidens. It was strange to think of Talla as beautiful, but Sam was not so naïve or dim-witted to not notice how the men stared at her. He had seen other women at the Wall, and of course they were looked at because they were a rare enough sight, but they Talla was looked at by most was different. They looked at her like they didn't wish to touch her, like she was a portrait threaded with gold and dyed with the powder of a rose petal. And even watching as she picked up their laundry and worked tirelessly over their meals seemed to not sway them from regarding her like she belonged in the King's Tower.

Their dinner that night was a beet stew, stretched but also surprisingly thick and warm and Talla looked especially proud of herself for the effort.

Gilly never took her meals so publicly but if he knew anything about Talla it was that she would go mad after a mere two days resigned in her room. _Maybe_ that's _why she left._ And so Talla sat between him and Pyp with Grenn facing them and Sam rejoiced in the sound of that same bubbly laughter he was starting to get used to. It was a shame he would leave the next day and brave another long time without it.

 _Who knows when I shall see you again?_ He thought as he regarded his sister, still merry and thoughtful in her ways. After the inevitable, there was to Sam no way of knowing whether she was even alright let alone a chance to see her. He had resigned himself long ago that he would never see his family again -but the unexpected reunion had happened all the same and it made Sam think about what life he could have had with them had he been the perfect son his father wanted him to be.

He allowed himself a small smile as he remembered their conversation from the night before.

" _Will you show me the Weirwood?"_

 _"Maybe Jon can take you to see it." He did not miss the way she grimaced at his mention._

 _"Perhaps i'm better off dreaming about it, then." They both chuckled._

 _"Sweet nightmares."_

They were somehow children again, children together, and it was a welcome respite from the harsh truth of the world he had been shoved into when he was not even a man grown.

He was once again pulled out from his thoughts when the familiar sight of Jon Snow approached in a place that he had grown unfamiliar with; it was not like Jon to join them at their table for dinner. But never the less, there he was, and he motioned for Grenn to move up a little so he was facing Talla directly.

The four of them remained silent; any sign of laughter dying down immediately with Lord Commander's arrival. But Sam had a feeling it was more because of the very known dislike between Jon and his sister. _I can't help that they know,_ he tried to explain to himself, _they asked and I answered._

"Evening."

"Evening." They answered in unison.

Another moment passed in silence. The look on Grenn's face said he wanted to slap Jon on the back and ask him how well he liked the stew. The look on Pyp's face said he was itching to play some music just to move the evening along. The look on his own face would have probably betrayed how slightly alarmed and confused he was feeling at Jon and Talla in close proximity once again. But the look on Talla's face betrayed nothing, and she sat expressionless with her arms crossed over one another whilst staring squarely into Jon Snow. She was a good changer of faces, he had to admit.

"Lady Talla, may I have a word?"

"Of course" She dolled out with her arms crossed, still unmoving.

Jon's eyes moved wildly between the group of them and finally calmed when he understood that Talla would not be moving. Talla herself had just resumed sipping at her stew.

"I meant in private." She looked back at Jon in insincere confusion and Sam was both scared and intrigued to see the end of _this_ conversation.

"I'm sure anything you wish to say to me can be said in the presence of your brothers, Commander Snow." At that Jon sighed loudly and lowered his head slightly. In the next second his head had bounced back up and his face grew blank -just like Talla's. It seemed like neither one of them would be conceding tonight. _Or ever,_ he thought.

"Very well, My Lady." He started and the rest of what he had to say escaped him rather quickly, "I've given thought to your earlier proposal and I think it might do us some good. You'll have two men guarding you and a builder to help you and my condition is that you must train someone how to maintain it so your visits outside can be less frequent as well as so it doesn't die out after you're gone."

 _Earlier proposal? You mean the vegetable garden Talla hasn't stopped talking about? The one she swore she would have you let her plant?_ He could almost chuckle on the sheer determination of that woman's will.

He awaited the broad smile to grace his sister's face, but it had not yet come.

"Only one guard. And you needn't spare a builder, I can start it on my o-"

"One guard. One builder. Final offer."

"Deal." She smiled, finally, and Jon hastily stood up.

"Enjoy the rest of your dinner, My Lady." And he nodded his leave from the rest of them and made to walk away.

Talla's smile was now more of a smirk than anything else. She wanted to taste her victory, and she wanted it to be salted by the fact that she would not be receiving it alone. He never thought that out of all people, the one to move the unmoving would be his own sister.

Tearing his eyes away from his sister his eyes followed Jon as he stood by a farther table and lifted his hand to demand the hall's attention. They all fell silent awaiting his words.

"Brothers," And Sam couldn't help but notice that at his announcement Jon no longer stood awkwardly at the centre of everyone's attention -he simply commanded it and took it with a formidable sense of directness.

"As you all know by now we have a visitor here at the Wall who will be staying with us for a short while." The hall burst into sound with the clinking of cups and "Here, here!"'s only slightly dulled by the unpleasant murmurs from an expected group.

"As of tomorrow Lady Talla will be planting us a vegetable garden just outside the gates and she will be joined by a guard that I will assign, though I thought it best that she also have an aid who volunteers himself on the condition that it does not interfere with his duties. Any volunteers?" As Sam had expected by now, there were many. But the first builder to raise his hand was Albett and so Jon picked him over the rest.

Clasping his hands together with a sense of finality he brought his announcement to and end.

"It's settled, Albett will help aid Lady Talla. Aethan, you stand guard."

A mighty scoff left Aethan in response to that, and though the entire hall seemed eager to ignore it, Jon did not.

"Is there a problem, brother Aethan?" _Oh no._

 _"Insubordination is all too free around Castle Black."_ He remembered Jon saying, and something in Sam's stomach dropped at the mention of another such challenge.

"Jus' wonderin' why I have to spend my day standin' guard for a girl playing house. This ain't a castle, Lord Snow."

"You will not address our guest this way." Jon responded calmly, but Sam could see the fire brewing.

"Who is _she_ to us? _"_

"She is-"

"Nothin', that's what."

"You're refusing my order?" Jon asked with clarity in his eyes, _opportunity._ And it scared Sam down to the bone, down to his very core. He felt Talla's hand snake into his own and all he wished for in that moment is to take her away from this place.

"A pretty face is all she is. So tell me, Lord Snow, what right does she have to order us about?"

"Maybe she has no right, but I do. And it's my order you guard the Lady. And it's not an order you get to question."

"I'd rather guard the Lady's-" Talla's hand wrapped tightly around his own and he could feel her breath getting shallow and her palms get sweaty. _We have to get out of here, we have to get out of here before he does something._

"This is your last warning." Said Jon, his voice hovering dangerously low over the entire hall.

"Or is that _your_ job now, Lord Snow? I thought wildlings were more your taste." And almost with relief, like that was exactly the answer Jon had been hoping for, Jon spat out his next order.

"Take him outside."

 _It's happening. It's happening all over again._

Aethan's sinister gaze did not change even as his own brothers begrudgingly carried him out into the courtyard, and Sam knew all too well what was going to happen. He had already seen it before.

Before he could stop her Talla had raced to the outside herself to see something she would not understand. Once they got outside and the commotion had not yet died and he tried to pull her away, _you don't need to see this,_ he kept on repeating but she wouldn't reply, her feet stood rooted into the snow laced ground and her eyes were wide with anticipation.

"Swing strong, Lord Snow." Were Aethan's last words before Jon's sword sliced through his neck and Talla's body collided with his own in a struggle to turn away from the gruesome seen.

"That's Commander Snow to you." He barely heard Jon muttered over the sound his sister's heavy breaths as she gripped his collar somehow wanting to mould into his clothes.

His eyes stayed on Jon as he wrapped a gloved hand around his sister's back and to the back of her head trying to soothe the violent breaths she was taking.

 _This was it. This was the Wall, Talla. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry._

* * *

 **Talla**

She hadn't even known his name. She didn't know who he was or why he didn't like her or whether there was another girl that he liked better. She didn't know anything except for the colour of his blood as it soaked through the wooden stage and the way his arteries went limp just where his neck ended. Moments ago and with a slip of his tongue that man was a person, a real person with blood pumping in his veins and words coming out of his mouth. And now he was just two separate parts of dead flesh; a corpse. Unmoving, irreversible and unchanging.

 _He had only objected. They were only words, why did he have to pay for it with his life?_

Talla witnessed that night something she had not previously known to exist, and she found it in Jon Snow. Commander Snow. It was pride that he took in swinging his sword and making an example out of a man, the sheer indifference to the blood spilled or the fear in everyone's eyes as they watched on. She remembered the way everyone's head was bent, like they already knew this was coming, like this was something that sometimes happens. Who was Jon Snow? Who were _they_?

Whoever they were -Talla was with them now, and she had to shove back just as hard. So when Sam had tried to retire them both to their room, she had refused.

" _The mess must be cleaned."_

They took his head away -she didn't know where to. But his body was moved on to the snow as she and a few other stewards brushed and scraped wildly at the blood staining the dark wood. Talla scrubbed until her fingers were new and the foam was pink, until the knees of her her dress were soaked through and the very blood she was trying to clean splattered onto her face. She was someone else, she was new, and she was blind to the blood -it was all the same colour.

Her eyes kept flickering down to the body lying lifelessly and headless on the ground and she wondered - _what will they do with the body?_ Will they bury him? Will they burn him? Will they leave him out for whatever beast is waiting? Or will they just keep him there on the ground, another reminder not to question their Lord Commander.

Once she felt as satisfied as she could with the job the rest of the stewards attempted to approach the body but her words left her before she could think.

"No, wait."

"M'Lady you're not-"

"Just give me a moment." She snapped at them, and there must have been something dangerously poisonous about the look in her eyes because with much hesitation they did eventually retreat back.

Talla's eyes grazed the outline of the dead man once more before looking down at her dress -dirty, muddied and now bloodied. Bracing herself and trying to muster whatever show of strength she had left in her to guide her, she approached the corpse steadily trying to push away the thought of it twitching.

He still had his black cloak on, as well as his leather doublet and cloth tunic and breeches, and with much unnecessary care, Talla began undressing him starting with his boots. She moved to his doublet then, her fingers shaking between the laces as she blindly pulled them to their release. Next, she untied his breeches and pulled them down, silently thanking the sun and stars that he had his smallclothes on -it was not enough that the situation was unbearable but it would not do Talla much more good to know that the first naked man she had ever happened upon was a beheaded one.

"Undressing a dead man isn't your duty. It's not anyone's duty." She heard a familiarly smokey voice say from behind her. And it was a voice she did not wish to hear anything from at the moment.

"The Dead don't mind the cold." She replied plainly, cursing her voice for almost failing her.

He said nothing more, and when she had finally peeled off the rest of the corpse's clothes she stood up, picking the clothes and leathers up in her hands with her, and looked down at the pale lifeless mess that she was made to always feel she had been a part of.

When she turned around, initially just to walk past the man, she found him regarding her curiously.

"What?" She nearly spat out at him.

"No one asked this of you, my Lady." And somehow, perhaps because of how much he had put her through, how cold he was or just because he was the one to swing the sword on the lifeless body that lay feet away from them, Talla felt like all he wanted to do was challenge her. It finally made her split into the pieces she was trying to glue back together. She stepped dangerously close to him, her fingers scratching at each other roughly and her voice still shaking and failing,

"You can treat me however you like. You can shame me and you can break me but _do not_ put anyone's life on me." It sounded like a threat, and she wondered for a moment whether her head would be next.

Talla could feel his hot breath on her nose, but she did not care.

"At the Wall we're all responsible for each other. Get used to it." She grabbed his arm roughly.

"Sam _chose_ you." She choked up as her eyes began to tear and her breaths worked to calm her and she tried to collect herself, "You're not the man he says you are."

And with the silence that followed, Talla removed her hands from the man's arm.

"There's a point where disciplinary turns to tyranny, Lord Commander. And I pray, for my brother and all of your brothers, that you do not cross it." And with that, she finally left his darkness and shuffled swiftly to the laundry room.

That night she knew she would have no sleep, so she did not even try to get any. She stayed in the laundry room all night tucked safely in to the warmth of the boiled waters and washed the blood out of the clothes she had taken. She cut the length of the dead man's cloak slightly and pulled his cloth together to make a straight skirt for herself -improvising the top by using the leather as sleeves since there was not enough cloth for the remainder of the dress. It was ugly, of course, far uglier than anything Talla had ever seen down in the Reach, but she would cover it with the black cloak she had cut for herself. But it was still a deadman's, it still al belonged to the dead man whose name she still did not yet know. And so she spent the rest of the night, well into the dawn, scrubbing and scrubbing the death of the clothes until she felt her fingers had been permanently pruned.

No one would bother her tonight, and she had a feeling that no one was in the mood to bother anyone else after what they had all witnessed. She could still not push out the look in Jon's eyes when he had made the order, or forget the feeling of how her face dropped upon hearing the entire exchange.

Talla was nearing happiness in that small, simple dinner. The men were happy and satisfied, she was sat with her brother and his friends and they were all laughing, The proud Jon and conceded and given her what she had wanted. And it all got twisted to utter shit. Giving her what she wanted by giving her something no one else wanted that night. Even though she had refused, to herself and to Jon, that she would be responsible for anyone's life like that, she still felt like she was to blame for it all. _If I hadn't bargained,_ _if I hadn't asked, if I hadn't argued, if I hadn't gotten on that forsaken carriage then someone else would not be dead right now._

 _"Get used to it."_ He had said to her. And it made her doubt for a moment that maybe she was even weaker than she thought. Maybe this was life. Maybe this was the truth.

 _The morning would bring Sam's departure, I hope a part of me leaves with him. Perhaps my weakness should leave with him. Show my weakness the great big Citadel, Samwell. Feed my weakness and give it knowledge, and I hope one day you may return it to me._

They all stood in the yard the same yard that Talla had no recollection of arriving in and awaited with bated breaths for Sam to leave; to get to somewhere better. The blood still stained her old dress.

"I hope the world grows inside you, brother." She had said as she wrapped her arms around him -there was always so much to wrap her arms around. She kissed his cheek as she pulled away.

"Take care of yourself," He paused and let his eyes wander to his closest friend, "Take care of Jon, please."

When he finally left Castle Black to get lost in an ocean of white Talla thought of his parting words. _Maybe the savior needs saving this time._ Maybe underneath that Northern hardness and the Wall inside the man there was someone just as scared as Sam, someone that needed someone like her. She couldn't help Sam, perhaps Jon could be the exception.

"I'll try my best, brother." Talla whispered to the wind.

* * *

 **"he all taking charge n shit and they like uhm wait a sec bb ur not the boss of us**

 **then he's like? i will cut your head off" Basic outline.**

 **Anyways, I know some of you are probably going to think that this isn't really "dark Jon" since he's kinda already done that before but like I said -far less hesitation. And I wanted to show that it was kind of what he was waiting for, he _wanted_ to do it, and he wanted to do it with no remorse. Remorse is sooooo old Jon. Plus I wanted Talla to see that.**

 **Tell me what you think!**


	6. Whispers of Morning

**A/N: Wassup you guys? Happy to get an update? Me too bruh, me too. Now if only the fics i'm reading would update cause it's been _forever_ and I am dying.**

 **Guest: I'm sorry that you don't like my story and that it doesn't really seem to be for you. I feel like I can only remind you that this is _fan fiction_. Yes, i did want my OC at the Wall, sue me. I'll do my best to fix any glitches in the story so as not to make it more "irrational and indecisive" and for that criticism I thank you. But with all due respect if you think that i'm going to drop this story that has been living inside me for months because of your opinion then I hate to say you are _very_ wrong my friend. I can't do anything but recommend that you read my other fic and see if it is more to your liking, other than that there really is nothing else to say except that if you don't like it that much then simply don't read it.**

 **And just for some clarification -I don't exactly want new Jon to be Bolton-ruthless or anything. I want him to be cold. Different. Like something he never thought he could misplace has been torn away from his gut. That is all :).**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Jon**

"Absolutely not."

He did not know how he had gotten here exactly for the third time that week, but Jon stood there once again with his palm flat on the air in finality against Talla's rooted stance. And this time there was no Sam to tame them -not that he had done much of a job on that front anyways, and it was up to Jon himself to keep things as calm as he could. Which, for all purposes, he had _intended_ to do when he saw Talla approaching him with an idea in her eyes. _Be nice,_ he had warned himself, but her suggestion had been far too preposterous to even consider.

 _Trading with the Wildlings? Supplies and stock for part-time men and women? The Night's Watch is not a mercenary business._

"Give me one good reason why not." _Where could I even start?_

She had been around him far more than he thought or expected. He thought any interactions they would have had onwards were going to be, at best, civil with disdainful glares. She had seemed so...disgusted by him the night of the execution. So shocked and broken and _angry,_ holding a pile of dead man's clothes -not even _he_ questioned her on why. But when he spotted her that next evening in a new dress with leather sleeves and a cloak that fell heavily around her, Jon took an educated guess. More than just being in his presence he felt that Talla was actually being... _nice_ to him. They were not exactly getting along, not the way she was with Albett and Pyp, but it felt like a start to something and almost like this was the way things were supposed to be; like the routine felt right when they crossed paths at the first whisper of morning. But as full as her presence felt at the Wall Jon had to keep constantly reminding himself that it would not last. _Soon, probably very soon, you'll be just another girl who stayed at the Wall. And we shall never cross paths again._

"Because the watch is a _duty,_ not a trade. We have things that are more than just commodities here in the North."

"It's just something to think about." Jon knew it was something she had _chosen_ to say. Since the last time he had thought something over he had ended up agreeing to her terms -well, _most_ of her terms anyway.

"Any man willing to fight for the Wall and the realms of man is willing to do what it takes to do so honourably."

"Is it absolutely, unabashedly necessary that one must give up his life to stand in defense of a threat against humanity? Or is that just your honour, Lord Commander?" Her words were starting to resume in their familiar bite, and Jon was not about to let her get away with it.

"It is if he wishes to maintain it."

"Beggars can't be choosers, my Lord. Maintenance is secondary to the threat. Would you rather see everyone's doom than make an exception?"

Jon was almost dumbfounded by the implication of her words; that him refusing to lower their standards far more than he already had was somehow a declaration of his stubbornness. As if _he_ would be responsible for their _doom_ should he not concede to her far out plans.

"You and I value very different things, my Lady." He was standing close to her now and he found the smell of her hair disarming. _Nothing's supposed to smell that good up at the Wall._

"Aye, I value principle Jon." That was the first time she had called him by his name since their last stand off, and he was glad his men were not there to hear it anymore. "But I also value reason. If I am faced with my survival I _will_ choose logic over principle time and time again. I thought you of all people would understand that."

And her choice of words was all Jon needed to give her the final push back, one he knew would award him with an afternoon of respite from her proposals.

"And what, may I ask, do you know of survival, _Lady_ Talla Tarly?" She said nothing as she stood before him, clearly at an impasse. He had struck a nerve, he had stood in her way and judging by the stricken expression on her face, she was not at all appreciative of it.

"Good day." _So much for getting along, then._

She left his study in a hurry and he closed his eyes briefly and brought his head down to his palm for a moment to consider whether what he had just said was a good idea or not; whether upsetting her was a good idea or not. Hard as he tried, he could not search for the part of him that would care, and as he breathed out in relief he felt a strange guilt for his indifference.

Jon kept a distant eye on Talla for the rest of the day, just as he had promised, and come dusk he was back in his study and was half expecting to see her return to it once more. Instead, however, there was another knock on the door.

"Come in." He ordered.

"There's been a raven for you, Commander Snow. It's from King's Landing."

His brows were perked in confusion until his eyes fell on the seal to the letter. _A Hunter. It's Randyll Tarly._ It was the answer he had forgotten he was dreading.

* * *

 _Lord Commander Snow,_

 _You may keep my daughter in your care for the time being, I have no need of her currently and it would be a waste of my men as well as alarming to those watching should I send them to Castle Black. But I will, I suspect soon, in some time need her to return. By the Gods and the Sun, Talla Tarly will not escape the duty she is promised to._

 _I only demand that when the time comes for my daughter to be returned to me that her honour be intact -and so I charge you with that responsibility. If that is something you fail to ensure then allow me to ensure you that it is you who will pay the price. My house will not be shamed by a frivolous girl living out her whims before her duty catches up to her. And it will, Lord Commander, you can be damned sure of that. In exchange for your service I, as well as forces from the Crown and house Tyrell, will be sending up a considerable number of men and supplies for your honourable cause._

 _I will remind you once more, Lord Commander, that my daughter is not your guest. I don't want to raise the Reach to march against the Wall, nor do I want to decimate another force all for another girl who is not in her rightful place, but Gods help me I will if I should find resistance or dishonour in any way._

 _Randyl Tarly._

* * *

Jon set the letter down with a firm fist and a head swimming in different directions. _What kind of father would have a stranger just keep his daughter like a horse?_

Out of all the things said and all the threats made the thing that stuck the most was the matter of guarding the Lady's honour -to which Jon could almost scoff at. His job, his _duty,_ as the commander of an order that protected all the realms of mankind did _not_ include making sure a young woman didn't welcome someone into her room. How could she? With Ghost standing guard by her room every night? And if that were not enough Jon knew of her whereabouts at any given time of day and always kept an eye on her however distant it was -in what time could someone just fall between her legs?

He pushed the parchment forcefully aside and allowed himself something he rarely had the time for anymore -a moment of weakness. He set his head down onto the hard wood of his desk, feeling it creak under the added pressure, and he closed his eyes until the insides burned red instead of pitch black.

That night at dinner Jon could not bring himself to look Talla in the eyes -which all seemed to be for the best especially after their conversation that afternoon. He couldn't allow her to sense his shaky resolve or the fact that her father's letter made him sick -something he was not sure he was capable of feeling after all he had seen. Instead his eyes inspected everyone else in the room; every glance, every smile, every leer and every subtle burn for the Lady that Jon could find, and Jon found the investigation to be quite telling of his men. It made him wonder, was he not the only one who found her beautiful? Could anyone be having insidious thoughts about her? For a woman he did not know very well Jon seemed quite sure to determine that she was not the sort to be interested in those pursuits. If she was then Jon wondered what she was doing at the Wall and not married to some handsome flowery Lord down south -the Wall is hardly spewing out viable candidates. Jon had half a mind to think that the majority of the men in Castle Black didn't know what to do with a woman like Talla. _Is that to imply that I do? Of course not._ He waved the thought of it as he approached his bed, and instead thought briefly of moving Talla to the King's Tower so she could be farther away from any "threats to her honour". Even thinking it had almost made Jon laugh -it was hard to think of the Lady threatened by any men whose shit stains she's already washed.

He lay in his bed that night feeling suddenly cold and alone, and he could remember no face of his lover or sister or even the whore he had almost kissed; no one but the girl, the _woman_ , who lay several doors down guarded by his hound. _Who was she thinking about?_ He wondered.

And just like that he was slipping, falling and falling until he landed into a pelt of soft fur and he was not himself anymore -he knew where he was now; _who_ he was now. His eyeline was beneath the level it usually was, and instead of lying on a soft bed he was sitting watch outside a door.

.

* * *

 **Talla**

She had tried to stay pleasant enough and not cause any more trouble with the man she knew was responsible for her, but when her mind swam at night with ideas and landed on one that could actually hold she knew that she had to risk it all coming to an end for the sake of her plans having some viability.

Talla had never been one for such pursuits; she was always safe. Always safe at home, never talking back to her father, obedience for a long while was a trait she wanted to take pride in. But if jumping into a carriage and leaving home for the Wall was not risk-taking behaviour then Talla did not know what was and something in her felt free enough to take more risks where she was now.

Even though the Night's Watch _did_ approve of the Wildlings' passing south of the Wall it was hardly going to encourage a significant or impressive number of them joining the Watch for that sake. And _more_ than that, more than she could even explain to the Lord Commander was that the deal with the Wildlings needed to _work._ For them, for the Watch, for _him_ of all people as well. The deal was made, correct, but given the already stated worry over the honour of the Wildlings what was their incentive to stick to any of it? It was no harm to have any insurance. Talla had always been taught that the first step to diplomacy, unity and communication was an open trade between two places -and that was exactly what they both needed. The New Gift was settled but it could not yet thrive, and with the donations coming in at the Wall and the new produce garden she was planning on there should be enough to go around. It was an _idea,_ and all she needed was to plant it in Commander Snow's head.

Although after his shortness with her she couldn't help but start regretting her decision slightly. _Perhaps I should have waited for a better time._ Until she realised that there was in fact, no better time when it came to him.

He was always sulking, always scowling -even some of the oldest men at the Wall looked more jovial than he at times. But there were, of course, brief moments that his face would not be so hardened or he would even smile or laugh and Talla could not look away from how handsome he really was -how handsome his duty would not allow him to be. It was silly on all counts, of course, but sometimes she just liked looking at him. If not for no other reason than to catch a glimpse of the man her brother must have loved.

Castle Black proved to be not at all quite different than Horn Hill. They both ran stiffly and mercilessly because they _had_ to be, and besides the sometimes unbearable cold, lack of proper stocks and outnumbering of men to women, they were still very much the same. And Talla was not sure how to feel about that, but Horn Hill was something she _knew_. Being there and doing the things that she did had well equipped her for Castle Black, surprisingly. It may not have equipped her to believe in herself, to find easy happiness or to talk to a man she might have liked but by the Gods, she was an unvoiced steward to be reckoned with.

She was also not afraid to admit that she had learned so much -there was only so much you could learn from Septas in a fortress where you were cooped up from everything else in the world. Sam would read her stories sometimes when they were children about the dragon age, and now instead she had Ulmer and Bearded Ben to tell her stories of their own adventures -though Talla did doubt the validity of many of those tales.

She missed Sam. Somehow she felt a longing for his presence far more than she had before and it made her question just what bound them as brother and sister - _what is a bond but an invisible string grown out of words and embraces?_ She wished him well, and she wished him safety, and she hoped that one day she could tell him how hard she is trying to keep her promise to him.

The man he had asked her to look after was not one that was open to being looked after -as if that was not at all obvious to be begin with. Talla had no idea where to start with him, words were obviously getting her nowhere, but the idea of giving up on something she had promised to her brother seemed too cowardly for her liking. So, just as she was sure Commander Snow was keeping a distant eye on her, she would keep a distant eye on him.

But it was getting harder and harder to think of him as her brother's best friend when he was insulting her character and how little she knew whenever she made a suggestion. It hurt because it was mostly true, was she not entitled to hurt anymore? Or did she sign off on that right the moment she had reached the Wall?

It was the evening now, the cold night, and she had decided to sit out the rowdy dinner for the night to instead tend to Ser Wynton Stout. He was an old man, far past his years of use, and if he were a cow at Horn Hill Talla knew he would be long dead. But there was something almost endearing in his madness and ramblings, and Talla had wanted him to know a warmth she could not feel herself. His mind was lost to the years of service he had given, _Eighty years,_ it was the only thing he kept repeating that was actually true to the best of her knowledge.

"Stay warm, now." She ordered as she tried to settle his moving hands back under the blankets -the cold was not doing him much good the past couple of days. _Had it ever?_

"But little Barrow, they're about to send him off." He was still talking about people who weren't there and no one had ever heard of, but Talla found it best for his calm to play along.

"No, no he's asleep. So why don't you finish your soup and head off yourself, alright?"

He grunted bumpily in response and she let herself have a soft chuckle. She learned that laughing too loudly around him only increased the paranoia.

She spooned the rest of his soup carefully to his thin, shriveled lips and cleaned up the residue that piled around his mouth before smoothing her skirt down -signaling to him subtly that their time was over.

"You look like the girl." He croaked out cryptically.

"I'm sure you've known many girls in your lifetime." Talla quipped back with a knowing smile and the old man laughed painstakingly at her implication.

"Only one that wore a crown of roses. You should get one." She rubbed his shoulders comfortingly and wondered why she felt so glad that there was a renewed shine in his eyes when he should have been going to sleep.

"I'll try to find one then."

Before Talla could get off the bed his bony hand grabbed her wrist tightly with a force she had not calculated or expected from him. The glint in his eyes was now alarming and she felt confusion more than fear at the sudden turn in the docile man's behaviour.

"The day all the smiles died, i'll see that day once again." Was all he choked out before his eyes starting drooping and his grip loosened. Talla shook him off gently and stood up, taking one last look at him before she gently stoked the fire to en ember and left the room.

Talla had barely taken a step out of the room before she was faced once more with the object of much frustration to her, Jon Snow.

"Evening." He said evenly.

"Evening." She searched his eyes for something that was not previously there before despite his even tone; curiosity.

"You weren't at dinner, the men said I could find you here." Talla nodded back to him as she made to walk to her room, allowing him to walk with her in the process.

"I'm sorry to say Ser Wynton is not in a good way, I thought it best I tended to him before bed tonight." She pronounced with true sorrow in her voice, she had never witnessed someone losing their mind before.

"That's very kind of you." She was going to reply that it was only her duty until she remembered that, especially to Jon Snow, it was in fact not.

"It's the least I can do." The man walking by her side let out a soft chuckle to that and the very foreign sound had her head spun around in alarm. _He laughs?_

"What is it?" She questioned him pressingly. He took a pause to look down on her slightly before proceeding to answer her.

"I'm not very convinced that anything you do is the "least" in any regard, my Lady." It took a moment to process, but it was undeniable -humour. _Perhaps this is what Sam was talking about_. she laughed as heartily as her exhaustion let her and not just what was said but the victory of finally seeing the man next to her.

"That you are right, Commander Snow." Their steps were lazy now, and Talla was surprised that a part of her wanted to prolong their walk. It was a nice change to have a man who was not fawning over her or struggling to look her in the eye for that matter. And it was good not to have him challenge her at every turn, some respite from that was much welcomed by Talla.

"About the Wildli-"

"Let's not talk about it right now." She cut him off before he could finish. As much as she wanted to plead her case, she did not want to remember that they were who they were. For now they could just be strangers who could laugh together.

"Alright." He added briskly, signaling that he understood but that this was something they _will_ discuss later -which was good news.

"How was your day?" She asked to divert their conversation from its previous direction.

"Same as any other."

"Very informative."

"How was _yours?_ "

"Oh I don't think you want to know." She said with a smirk as they approached her door, and as Commander Snow stepped back to the railing whatever warmth he had afforded her with was quickly replaced by Ghost's awaiting presence and she ruffled his soft fur in thanks.

"I might have you moved to the King's Tower, is that is alright with you?" More shocking than the fact that he wanted to move her was the fact that he was asking her opinion about it.

"Why?" She questioned, "I'm no Queen."

"Just for added safety, I suppose. I thought I should ask you first."

"Well I thank you for the courtesy, Lord Commander. I'll _think_ about it." Her raised eyebrow indicated that her choice of words were not coincidental and she let the smile linger on her face for just a little longer. _This is not so bad, is it?_

With a small smile and a nod he bid her goodnight and Talla wasted no time in escaping the cold into her room.

As she undressed into her shift she thought of how everyone had their place -could this be hers? It was a preposterous thought, _women don't belong at the Wall,_ she kept repeating. But a part of her couldn't help but wonder, what if women were needed at the Wall? She laughed at the thought of mentioning that to the Lord Commander, for he would surely thing her trying to radicalize something as stiff and cold as he was. The Watch will not ever bend, and neither will he.

 _How could someone so young act so old?_ But she supposed she could not blame him after all the things he had seen, it was hard to go back. However, she caught glimpses of the young man buried underneath the black tonight, and it was enjoyable even in the biting cold.

When she set her head down to lay after she put out the fire she considered relighting it at the sudden cold she felt by her side. Deciding to do something out of the ordinary to afford her with some comfort she walked back to her door and found that same formidable direwolf standing guard. Talla smiled down at him briefly, appreciative of his efforts, and ushered him inside.

With no hesitation he made his way to the end of her bed and spread himself on it as she pulled the latch down on the door again. Talla wondered how she was going to fit on the bed with him, but she found that she didn't want to be alone tonight -and Ghost was the only one she'd let in her room.

As she lay awkwardly on the small space she still felt like there was something to be missed. Talla lay herself on her side and stroked Ghost's soft fur, _it's so warm._ She had yet to find her own warmth. She could laugh and cook and wash and help and tend to however many men she liked, it was no real part of her. It was something ingrained into her, second nature, but Talla felt like there was an unnamed thing inside waiting to be given, waiting to find a place to rest.

She didn't feel the first tear escape her, or the second, or any after that until her cheeks were wet with saltwater and Ghost's head turned to attention at her.

Talla had gone from feeling nothing for so long to feeling something she could not name, and she was scared of everything that was happening. She gave herself no time to process, no time to think whether she was doing anything right, knowing partially that if she were to do so the fear instilled in her by Randyl Tarly would remind her what a worthless little girl she really was.

"Oh, Ghost." She whispered as she grabbed blindly into his fur and pressed her head to him to let herself weep.

 _Please don't tell anyone, will you, Ghost?_

* * *

 **Jon**

He did not know.

He didn't know where he was or what exactly he was doing, but when he woke up the next morning he remembered his dream of a woman weeping and somehow something inside him identified it as Talla.

 _"Who am I?"_ He remebered her voice repeating over and over again until it went hoarse with sleep.

She was a straight line, a break in the earth with no mercy for those foraging in its path. But when he looked at her through eyes of blood red he saw the grooves breaking her skin and he was shocked at how well she hid them.

As he recalled her breaking he racked his brain for some sort of reason, any explanation to justify the deep drop in her eyes when she thought she was finally alone. _I was nice to her, nothing happened. Could she be upset from before?_ If Jon were to yield every time someone spouted some tears he knew for a fact that he would not be alive or where he is; but he also had a feeling that Talla's tears had nothing to do with him. It was presumptuous of him to think that anything the Lady does would be because of him. _That's something Talla would say._

He kept his eyes vigilant on her when he crossed her path like clockwork in the morning so he could search for signs or residues of whatever it was that was troubling her. But in her eyes Jon found nothing in the cool morning air; her face was as tightly controlled as her braided hair and Jon had never been so eager to unfurl something before him.

"Morning."

"Morning, Commander Snow." Ghost nuzzled up by his leg momentarily, strangely more affectionate to his master. _Perhaps missing me is a good thing my friend._

"I think he misses you." She said with a toothy smile, reading his mind somehow.

She confused him so. He stood still with Ghost by his side, his only movements being moving his gloved hand through Ghost's fur, and he stared at her with perplexity. He felt little stings of cold upon his face and found that it was snowing again. The stray snowflakes gather around her face and hair but she seemed unfazed by what Jon knew was an unfamiliar sensation to her. Her eyes remained trained on Ghost and he could feel her gaze lazily follow the motion of his hand running through the thick white fur. It was too comfortable of a silence for Jon.

"I should be going now." He pulled her out of her slow daze and she nodded affirmatively to his reminder.

They made to walk away from each other, but Jon had barely taken three steps before he looked back at the footsteps she left as she made her way to the Vaults.

"Talla?" Her dainty neck twisted to his direction swiftly, and as he looked upon her he thought of her words and how she had repeated them to herself like a mantra. _I am nothing_. _I am nothing. I am nothing._

They stood far apart with only the snow and Ghost between them and a part of Jon twisted at what he knew he was about to say, but another part of him knew he would not stop thinking of it until he could look the lady in the eye and say it.

"I'm naming you temporary steward to Castle Black." As expected, even with her ambitious strides, that was the last thing Talla expected to hear from him.

"W-what? Why?"

"Because we need one."

"And you'd have a _woman_ be the steward to your castle?" She replied with some venom in recollection to all of their earlier conversations. He held back the smile that crept up from his gut.

"It's better than nothing."

* * *

 **"they finally getting along now until she brings up you know..her opinion**

 **randyll tarly writes back nd he like lol keep the bitch i got bigger plans guyz"**

 **I just feel like I should clarify that the "deal" Jon had previously made with the Wildings does not exactly stick to canon in this chapter but I had to twist some things up to get what I wanted. Sorryyyyy. It's a minor change, but I was hard pressed to find another cause involving the Wildings that Talla would want to get herself in the middle of.**


	7. Sired to Pride

**A/N: Yall thought I was gonna keep spoiling you didn't you? I was _going_ to but i've kind of been treating my other story like a neglected 50's wife -it needed some loving and I promised myself I wouldn't even start this chapter until I could publish the other, so it took me longer than 2 days.**

 **Dread Knight N7: I have to thank you for your kind words and reviews time and time again and I feel honoured that you would spend your time reading what I have to write. I really am grateful for a reader like you.**

 **sofiaaelisabeth: Have patience my child! But I will admit...it's getting harder to keep them apart for me personally. I have a plan of what happens and when but the more I write/think about it my inner fangirl LIVES and I want some touchy-feely.**

 **Guest &Guest2: Look this is the story that I wanted to go with, i'm sorry if it offends you but it can't be offending you more than you've chosen to offend me. And no it seems pretty fair that I "mistook" dislike for confusion since none of what you said indicated that you wished to engage in constructive criticism. I'm not trying to be defensive but you obviously don't seem convinced so I apologize but i'm not going to personally spend my time and energy convincing you when I happen to like my story the way it is. Talla is special to me and she is special to the Wall. I wanted to write a woman who could shape these men and finally become herself in a place that was always associated with men. So if you think it is too out of the question for her to be respected then by all means go ahead and quit reading because that's not something i'm gonna drop. Castle Black, in this AU, has already been through so much and fears Jon's wrath, so anything out of order -including raping and murdering his best friend's sister, is not too fond of an idea to them. And sending Talla back, while yes it may be a shabby excuse to keep her there, is not hard to understand. Jon would rather kill one man he can not spare to make another example than to send half a dozen of them down and waste resources as well as risk desertion. Also, Randyl is working on something else and will call Talla when he chooses to do so. So there you go. This will be the last time that I explain myself to your comments because I can't do that more than once, I won't spend my time trying to convince you to like something you obviously don't like.**

 **Alainwonderland: I actually know of 0 Jon/OC fics that I have liked enough to recommend but to be fair I don't really read Jon/OC fics. I think out of all the ASOIAF fics I read Jon fics the least of any of them...don't ask me why I have no idea! But i'll keep my eyes peeled for you just in case I happen upon any good ones!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **.**

* * *

 **Talla**

She didn't know what it meant to be a steward, not at the Wall at least. It took her by surprise, not only the sudden announcement but the unexpected sentiment that came along with it. Talla didn't know what to think of the knowing look in the Lord Commander's eyes as he gave her the order and spun around on his heels in a cooler demeanor than she had seen him in before. She didn't see him for much of the rest of the day, unsure if the reason why was because of the usual workload she assigned herself or if she truly had no wish to come across him again.

 _What did he even mean by that?_ She thought as she pressed and twisted the wet clothes out of the hot water in the safety of the laundry room. It had quickly become her sanctuary, the boiling room. Ever since the night of the execution Talla had taken to hiding away there. It was the only place in which she could hide and simultaneously get something done. It was also, coincidentally, one of the only other places the brothers wouldn't enter -especially not after she had taken over that certain unsavoury duty. _Something about men washing other men's clothes. They seem perfectly fine wielding their swords and bows but come the prospect of seeing what's in another man's breeches they get squeamish. The brothers to whom our lives are handed to serve and protect._ She chuckled soundly at her own thoughts with the knowledge that no one else could hear her -and no one would question or ask her why she had such a smile on her face.

She supposed she should be happy about the whole thing -she _was,_ but it all made her think about how it wouldn't last. And thoughts of her return were as unwelcome to Talla as the cold that brewed through her bones when the night was deep and there was no escape.

But there was something almost itching to be uncovered in the way the Lord Commander had said it to her. The way his eyes looked at her, like they were looking _down_ , there was a glimmer of something she was completely unused to seeing from anyone who hadn't met her father; _pity_. It was the very thing she was getting away from, the notion of her weakness -the reminder of the wheels breaking her at every turn or step. He looked at her like she knew there was something she so desperately needed; almost as if it was him instead of Ghost that had stayed by her side the night before and watched her weep into his fur.

 _I am nothing._ She thought once more. _But Jon Snow doesn't know that yet._ And a part of her decided that Jon Snow, and all the other brothers, would never know that. She just had to keep it up before she was torn away.

Talla squeezed out as much of the remaining water as she could out of the last piece of linen she could bring her reddened hands to scrub. _Where had all the time gone?_ There were no window in her sanctuary, of course, but it felt like she had been hiding and plucking her brain for an eternity -and whatever part of her that wanted to stay in the comfortable warmth of the damp room had to be stepped on by Talla today. _I will not cower to duty._ So she dried her hands, pulled down her sleeves, put the dead man's cloak back on and braced herself for the cold once more - _amongst other things_.

She walked about aimlessly for a little while, everyone had something to do and they seemed to get on very well doing it -but Talla could not help but think about where her place between these men truly was. Most of them were nice to her, truly, even lovelier than some men who had been intent on courting her in the past. Talla found it hard to believe that they were criminals or unwanted men with no other place in the world, even though she thought of herself as much of the same. _You are wanted here, this is your place._ She said out to all of them silently, hoping her heart would beat it loud enough for them to hear. She cared not of what old wounds they had had or inflicted in the past, they were _good_ men with sound heads on their shoulders -she only wished they would keep them that way. Talla couldn't exactly say the same for the other men at the Wall -the ones who treated her like the undesirable she was. To their credit they avoided her most of the time, Talla would have thought that a disliked man at the Wall would encounter his fair share of trouble so a disliked woman was something she was almost frightened of being -but they always kept out of her way. They scattered around like ants whenever she was passing by them, though they left nothing wanted in the looks they gave her. They still did nothing, no one tried anything, and as much as Talla would have liked to be naïve, to be young and childlike and think that even those men could see whatever good she had left, Talla knew it was because of the power their Lord Commander had over them -especially after the previous example he had made of a man that had insulted her.

 _Though he wasn't insulting me, really. He was insulting Jon._ She kept the right to call him by his given name in her own thoughts, _surely I don't need his permission for that? Maybe he calls me Talla when he thinks of me._ She swiftly shook the thought out of her head. _He does not think of me at all._

 _Would he announce my new appointment to his men? Would he tell them at dinner? Would he have their heads if they refused to have me?_

 _What would their reaction be?_ She had no idea. And perhaps she never truly would -she would never know what it was like to be them. They had all come here from different places and walks of life, had all served under different Lords and titles, but they all met at the same fate. And though Talla could see, well and _truly_ see, the beauty that came with all of the ugliness and the weights they bore on their shoulders, she would never be privy to understand it. She would never know the harsh sting of the cold when one knew it was to be their home for as long as they were alive, she would never draw her sword to a wildling or carry her brother from battle, she would never trek to a Weirwood, just like Sam had told her, and say her vows before a tree that bled like they did. _All I know is the same loneliness that haunts my bed as theirs does -and not even all of them either for that matter. I will never know combat, I will never know the fight of the North, I will never know a heartree._

Suddenly, and without much fixture to thought, Talla knew what would occupy her time from then on until dinner. _Perhaps I could know the heartree, after all._ Spinning on her heels, she walked over hurriedly and briskly in her worn boots to find someone, _a ranger,_ that could take her since she was already anticipating the Lord Commander's harsh head shake at the prospect of her going alone -which was fine. Talla, though fond of riding, had no need or interest in wandering the Lands beyond the Wall on her own -especially not a tortured and haunted forest where the Weirwoods coincidentally stood.

Her eyes finally landed on someone who happened upon her path who was not a steward or a builder, _where do all you rangers go to play?_

"Ben!" She cried out to Bearded Ben, to whom she had purposely decided on addressing by his given name at any and all times. _His beard is not even that long. How many Bens can there be at the Wall?_

"Lady Talla," He said, his accent thick with the North, with a smile and only a shadow of a bow. She was tempted to wave him off or roll her eyes but she hardly wanted to give him the satisfaction. "Can I be o' service?"

"If it's not too much trouble, I have a mind to go see the Weirwood -i've never seen one before. And i've nothing to do until dinner time. Could you accompany me? Unless of course you're busy training then I-" Bearded Ben raised his hand sharply at that and smiled once more, though Talla did not miss the curious look in his eyes.

"Does ah, does the Lord Commander know of yer' little trip, M'Lady?" With the curiosity in his eyes now explained, Talla found it in her to raise her chin in defiance and look for something to stand on.

"I couldn't find the Lord Commander. He's a busy man, he doesn't need to be bored with all the details." She watched as the man cracked a humorless smile at her before his eyes darted to something behind her, but she stayed still nevertheless.

"Well now's yer' chance to ask him."

Talla turned around to find her faced with the very same man it was empirical for her sanity for her not to see in that exact moment. Without giving him a chance to speak before she could she turned sharply to Bearded Ben with a look akin to a scowl and with a voice she hardly even recognised and ordered,

"Ready the horses while I inform Commander Snow." His smile was full of the humour it was once missing as Bearded Ben relented in a full bow this time,

"As you wish, M'Lady."

Unable to meet the steely man's burning gaze just yet, she watched Bearded Ben walk away with as cool a demeanor as she could muster before she knew her attention would be summoned back to where it so belonged. _How good of an idea is this?_ She had just been awarded with a position -which was far more than she could say she expected, was it really necessary to spoil whatever she had built to see a _tree_? But, of course, Talla would not stand back -she knew it, even as she felt the man's fuming breath reach her hair, she knew it.

"May I ask what need you have for horses, Lady Talla?"

She turned to him with a clear face, one she hoped was devoid of any hesitation in her actions or what she was about to say.

"I was just telling Ben how I wished to see the Weirwood. I can't exactly _walk_ there now can I?" _I've done far more stupid things than that,_ she was going to add, but decided it was best not to poke the bear for the time being. Especially with his eyes darkening that way.

"The _Weirwood?_ " He questioned harshly, clearly expecting a more detailed explanation than what Talla was about to give.

"I hear it's charming." _What else could I have said? I wished to get away from the men of the Wall? I wished to get away from you?_

"You're not going to see any Weirwood, my Lady." It was he who was poking the bear now.

"Am I confined to your keep, Lord Commander?" She accused as she folded her arms across her chest.

"No one enters or leaves without my permission and-"

"Well then may I have it? Your permission?"

"What need would you have to go there? With Bearded Ben?"

"He was the only person I could find," she began stuttering out, clearly taken aback by the underlying implication to his words and Talla barely had time to be angry at any part of it before he cut in once more,

"You're not to go with him." _Had I gained a new father in the process? I was unaware._ She could only bring herself to huff audibly in response, the alternative being to shriek and Talla, being Talla, was not about to let anyone think that Jon Snow affected her _that much_. Instead she spun on her heel without another word to the contrary man and made to leave _him_ standing dumbfounded in the snow.

As she walked away, stumped with defeat, she spotted Ben approaching sheepishly with two horses' reigns in his hands, rubbing salt on the very wound Talla was currently nursing. She was about to raise her chin, pick up her skirts and leave and not show her face to dinner -she was about to say she didn't care which of his men thought she was anything to the Wall until she heard Jon Snow's voice again from behind her.

"I'll take you to the Weirwood, my Lady. If that is what you so wish." It was enough to stop her right in her tracks.

Talla turned back to him open-mouthed, shocked at the his acceptance. He was very person she wanted to get some distance from, and he was offering to come with her? She had half a mind to refuse, to say that she had no wish for it any longer; to make him think that it was _he_ that she had no wish for, but she recalled the sweet smile on Sam's face when he told her of how he had taken his vows in front of a tree that would scare him if he was not in such awe of it, and Talla -for once, relented.

She nodded painstakingly in his direction, and before she knew it he had walked over to where Bearded Ben stood, still smirking, and relieved him of the horse reigns he was holding. A sharp whistle sounded the air and Talla almost winced at the sudden noise before she felt Ghost approach them - _where he goes Ghost follows._

The Lord Commander informed a few of his men of their departure and where to find him should they have any need of him -assuring them in the process that they would not be long, which relieved Talla. However, she did not miss the curious looks some of the brothers gave in reaction to his announcement; the same gleam she had seen in Bearded Ben's. Talla could only wonder at what that meant.

One of Jon's squires came to him next -a handsome young lad with dark hair that Talla had noticed on the first night she had joined them for dinner, right before they were set to mount their horses, and offered him a heavier cloak. The Lord Commander reached out to take it before hesitating to a stop, instead Talla watched as his eyes flickered to her with sudden thoughtfulness. She wondered briefly what of her insecurities would fail her this time, what part of her composure was not good enough, before he turned to address his squire.

"Give the cloak to Lady Talla, she'll need it more than I." It almost made her smile, _almost_ , before she took it as a slight against her build. Nevertheless, knowing she was unaware and probably unprepared to go out riding North of the Wall she accepted as the beautiful young man took her previous cloak from her, the momentary lapse in the cold in between cloaks reminding Talla of just where she was, before wrapping the heavier one around her carefully.

It smelled like something Talla knew, like the outside. Like the unforgiving wind and harsh tribulations; _is that all you are made of, Lord Commander?_ It must be, for Ghost leant into her legs even closer at the new scent that masked over her figure.

She thanked the squire pleasantly before turning to mount her horse -with some added difficulty thanks to the new cloak she had to brave wearing. _Accept that it is for your own good._ She reminded herself that perhaps she should be grateful, perhaps he was not adding insult to injury. Perhaps he was not taunting her, perhaps he was being _nice_. With that thought in mind and with a laugh escaping her throat, they rode off in tow with Ghost in close pursuit.

It did not take long for them to arrive at what Talla recognised as a heavily wooded area. They stopped just short of the darkness's beginning and as the Lord Commander loosely tied the steads to a close by tree Talla regarded the forest with much unexpected trepidation.

 _I have ridden through lands of hard ground, rivers and snow -what do I have to fear from the woods?_ The unfolding darkness before her reminded her of another terror -one that she thought she left behind. The hunting grounds at Horn Hill were tolerable at dawn, but there were places that not even the sun could bring forth, places full of secrets and whatever monsters her Septa had warned her of. " _You're never to set foot there, young lady. Your father will not have his daughter lost to a beast." What beasts await me now, father?_

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" Said Jon with a cocked eyebrow and an indecisive look to which Talla decided to take full advantage of.

"Not at all. Shall we?"

"After you, my Lady."

They walked together briskly, braving the deep snow. Ghost stayed impeccably close to her, nudging her along when she needed it, but when the woods grew thicker the snow on the ground adversely grew shallower and Talla could finally walk with a resumed bounce in her step.

"There are nine weirwoods making up the grove. It's used as a Godswood when necessary."

"And what constitutes a necessity, Lord Commander?" Talla teased subtly, and as expected the sullen man took it in all seriousness.

"Prayer, vows, weddings I suppose."

"Have there been many weddings here?" She questioned, letting her curiosity get the best of her.

"None that I can think of by the Weirwood, my Lady. But up North the old Gods are what we stick to."

"I've had my lessons, Lord Commander, I know of the Old Ways." _There is no need for you to teach me._

"They're not the Old Ways, not here. This far North they are the _only_ Ways." It must have been true, for her own brother who had been raised in the Seven like her had taken her vows like a boy of the North. Would she have to accept the Old Gods, the spirit of the wood and the forest, like all men north of the Trident?

"Very true. 'Suppose that's another thing i'll have to learn." _If i'm here long enough, that is._

After a dozen more steps Talla found them now stood facing a tree with a face carved deep into its own bark; wearing it like a skin.

She squinted and edged closer, feeling Commander Snow close behind her, and she inspected the elusive tree before her. It wept, its eyes sad with the grief of what it had witnessed, the red sap ran a true vermillion streak down the bark and it stirred a host of curiosity within Talla.

She had always known about the Heart Tree, she and Sam had read books about the Old Gods and her Septa would tell her of how the savage Northmen bowed to none but the sacred trees that haunted their woods, but standing before it was something else completely. Those eyes, that she had been told were carved by the children of the forest themselves, glowed on with life into her and she wondered and wondered what could be so sad and beautiful.

She leaned back, finally standing parallel to the other human beside her -Talla somehow felt that they were not the only living things in the forest, not with the life of thousands of years dwelling around them.

"Why does it look so sad?" She wondered out loud.

"That's not for me to say, my Lady." _Why do_ you _look so sad?_

"I thought you knew everything, Jon Snow." She replied in good spirits, but looked to her side to find that he had not immediately smiled. She hadn't expected him to be jovial, but neither had she anticipated his eyes boring into her with such _question_. Like there was something she was hiding, and he was bound to uncover it.

Just as she inspected his curious scowl he shook his expression away and replaced it with an insincere smile to placate her worry. It was, to say the least, not Talla's favourite. _I wonder which of your smiles is._

She was about to question him on what he found so arresting, so suspicious, about her statement before she heard a whine come from the white direwolf behind them. Ghost didn't look so jovial himself, his fur melting into the snow until from a safe distance he was just a pair of red spheres floating in the wood.

 _It would not be the most peculiar sight here in the woods, Ghost._

* * *

 **Jon**

It felt sacred to stand before that very tree with that very woman, the same way he had known others to stand before it and make vows of such substance that only a king had the power to renounce should he so feel inclined to. They both stood facing it, in deep thought, and as Jon suspected, with much a heavy heart. He imagined that perhaps when others stood there they felt the same way, _how could they not_? The Heart Tree's visage was something he had grown familiar with since his childhood, but it was a small kind of solace he would let himself have to watch others witness it for the first time -to drink in the melancholy and what it meant to stand before it just as Talla was.

Ghost had never been the fondest of this part of the woods, so Jon did not take much note of his whines as he savoured what silence he could find before the tree. And so he said a silent prayer, even to the Gods who thought he was no one, to find the strength to carry through even when they were empty. Jon looked to Talla in silence and wondered whether somehow she was singing the same prayer he was trying to muster.

Stray snowflakes fell from the heathen branches onto her hair like a hollow crown; barely visible in its wake, and Jon recalled the sight of a more pronounced crown of snow on Alys Karstark's wedding day. _If she is Winter's Lady, what role does Talla play in the long winter? Winter's faithful subject, probably._ He hoped she would not hear his thoughts in the haunted wood.

All thoughts of Talla's crown and her hair left him once the low rumble of Ghost's growl was glaringly audible to him; to the both of them, and Talla looked to him in worry without needing to look back at Ghost -somehow knowing something was amiss.

Involuntarily, he stepped in front of Talla, causing her to reflexively hold onto his upper arm as he followed Ghost to the foliage he was growling upon threateningly. His hand moved swiftly to the helm of his sword, pulling it out slightly in preparation, and Talla's grasp on his arm tightened even further. He almost told her to stay where she was -to not get any closer to the threat before he could determine what it was, but he knew leaving her alone would probably incite more harm than good.

Focusing his glare past the grove and grooves of the many trees that lined them, Jon spotted the unmissable blue; the unmistakable death. It's was not the deep, unyielding blue of an Other, but the shining blue of a Wight -a dead wildling still roped within his pelted fur, he stood idly staring back at Jon. Like he knew it was where he was supposed to be -like this was his prophecy to fulfill.

A small part of him, still naïve to the horrors of beyond, didn't want to believe what stood before him -even after Hardhome and the massacre he bore witness to, but the strangled gasp that left the throat behind him reminded him how real what stood before them was.

"Run."

And they did, all the way back to their horses. He took no grace or prior thought as he harshly lifted Talla's legs up to mount the horse, feeling her heartbeat through every inch of her clothes in the process, and jumped onto his own steed within the next heartbeat. They were back in the flurry of white, a hazy dream of pumping blood and falling snow. He looked back at the haunted forest disappearing behind him to see who -or what, had followed but there was nothing but the lingering darkness staring back at him until his own eyes could see nothing but frost.

They entered through the already opened gates into the darkened tunnel, finally coming to a stop on their thoughtless hurry. Jon quickly unmounted and made his way to Talla to help her down, but as she landed -hands limp on his shoulder still under the heavy weight of his own cloak, he registered the far away disposition her eyes had acquired.

"Talla?"

"What-what was that?" She choked out, barely audible had he not been as close as he was, hands still on her waist as her eyes still could not meet his.

Her question brought him back to reality, _this_ was their world now -and it would have to be a world Talla shared as well.

"A wight," He ground out, finally bring himself to push his hands off of her waist and up her shoulders to pull her attention back to him. Before he could explain any further, her eyes -her eyes so full of emotion and uncertainty, interrupted him and gave her the chance to speak before he could.

"He... _it_...it was just _standing_ there." His grip somewhat relaxed on her shoulder and Jon did not know what to do with her fear, it was so _new._ He felt like he had been over this so many times, he did not how else he could explain it or whether he even had the patience for it. _This is our world now, Talla. This is our world._

"I have to go back and end it." Before he could spin away he felt her own hands grab at his shoulders with the strength she had lacked just moments before.

"Have you _lost_ your mind?" Her voice was picking up now but the fear still rung through his ears in a higher pitch than was audible.

"If a wight appears that always means there is an Other nearby." He did not have time to explain all of this to a _girl_.

"It's almost nightfall, you can't go back there!" She tried to follow in jutters as he marched on with the intention of calling his best rangers to put the taunting creature to rest, it was a mercy he feared most would never know. He would have done it earlier when faced with it but Talla was there and he could not waste time in getting her to safety, it was his _duty_.

"I know what time it is!" His voice was stone now, loud like the salt it was made up of, and it was enough to stop Talla in her tracks.

"Stay inside and away from the gates until me and the rangers come back." Silencing her with his final order, he left her side, and surprisingly it was Ghost that followed him.

He spared her no other glance as he took Grenn and Bearded Ben with him out onto the same path he had set upon himself.

Jon and his men inspected the woods heavily after striking down the wight -who did not give even the slightest of fights to the brothers set out to tear him apart, but they found no other trace of danger, at least none that they could see. They burned the body on a pyre when the last of the sun had set and rode back wordlessly to the towering castle that awaited their return -and, if Jon suspected correctly, back to the highborn lady praying for their safety whilst simultaneously cursing him to the Others themselves.

Their return was marked by no anticipating reception or looming eyes, not even the single figure of a Lady who Jon had thought might be waiting. Instead, most of the sound erupting seemed to be coming from the common hall. Jon looked up at the sky and realised that the common hall was the exact place he would expect to find everyone when the sky was this colour -like nothing had happened, like nothing had changed.

Grenn and Bearded Ben had taken their leave to return to their rooms, certainly to try their best to rid themselves of the day they had had. But Jon found the warmth dancing in the doorway of the hall, calling his name, and he felt something pull himself in -casually wondering in the process whether he would find the lady of the Wall there as well.

Though whatever sound being emitted from the hall may have sounded joyous to the grey outside Jon was previously standing in, it was sullen in comparison to the past nights the men had shared in the presence of Lady Talla Tarly.

He could just make her solemn figure out, sitting silently at the end of one of the tables with her eyes empty and devoid of the determination he had almost gotten used to seeing in them. The brothers around her seemed to follow suit, trying to hide their insincere joviality in food and drink.

It was a strange thing to witness, how changed his own men were come the change of a singular lady. It was undeniable now as he tried to conjure up an image of her from nights passed, giggling at Ulmer's crude stories and quipping with the Builders, and compared it to how she sat now -alone and beholden to the fear that had shook through her. And with hr inward change something hushed over the brothers around her like a blanket setting them to an awkward slumber.

 _Perhaps,_ Jon thought, _there is a connection that lies between the changing moods of the present ladies and the men who had grown loyal to her -just as Ghost is to me._

With that in mind, he carefully approached Lady Talla, who didn't eve notice he was there until he carefully brought his gloved hand to rest on her shoulder which then had her in a fright.

She looked back at him with relief and something unknown within him stirred at the realisation, at the _revelation_ , that he was not what she feared.

"A word, my Lady?" He made sure to make it sound like a question and to keep his voice gentle enough not to quell her nerves. Jon could not recall when he had been so considerate.

Nevertheless, she nodded slowly in acceptance. Jon watched as her expressionless face changed momentarily to that of shock as he helped her out of her seat and offered her his own arm to escort her out of the hall that was now damp with need for attention. Defeatedly, and in a way he hadn't expected, Talla slid her arm through his, allowing him to feel the very bone that brew within her.

They walked in silence, even when they left the hall and the now familiar cold cast a chilled blush to the Lady's cheeks. She kept her eyes cast, though whether she was in deep thought or just tired Jon could not himself determine.

They stopped a few steps shy of the stairs, and Jon finally turned to the lady to address her. She was looking fully upon him then, and he barely registered that her hand still lay lifelessly in his. She looked to Jon so different, so changed, from the woman he had seen. She looked like the woman she was when she wept, _in my dreams,_ he thought. _So sad and beautiful, like a Weirwood._

"I wanted to make sure you were alright, after this afternoon."

Talla shrugged carelessly in response with not enough meaning in her eyes to cast it as an answer, at least not to Jon.

"I'm sorry you couldn't stay longer with the Weirwood. You seemed to like it." Once again she shrugged, _was her neck not getting tired of all that shrugging?_ But this time words had the fortune of following it.

"What are my wants in the face of such dangers, Lord Commander?" It was hardly something he expected to hear -even with her so sullen.

Deciding that the best course of action was one with pride removed from the equation, Jon drew in as deep a breath as his close proximity with the Lady allowed him and began to rescind his earlier actions.

"If I was harsh earlier it was only-"

"You were only being fair. As fair as you can be to a burden such as myself, at least." Once again, her retort was not what he expected. And it wasn't until she agreed with what he had been silently and angrily thinking over the past week that he came to the decision that it was simply untrue.

"I don't think that. And neither do the brothers."

"And how would you know?" She almost scoffed in return and Jon could just make out the first signs of life return to her being. _I need you alive, Tarly_.

"Did no one tell you?" He said with his breath a cloud of white between them.

"Tell me what?" She met his eyes with confusion, and Jon allowed himself to smirk - _for the Lady's sake._

"Apparently I know everything."

It wasn't enough to make her laugh, Jon wasn't sure he was made up of the stuff that would allow that sound to grace him just yet, but it won a smile. And to him, in that smile he could see the steady build of trust, the rise in morale, his men's cheers, and somewhere far off - a Lady's favour.

* * *

 **"he grumpy, she kinda ok and everyone hungry**

 **tries to be nice"**

 **Please review and tell me what you think!**


	8. Thorn in my Side

**Guest: If you had reviewed me in the way you had reviewed my latest chapter I would have called your criticism constructive because it clarified what you found confusing. Fanfiction has always been a safe and productive place and a little goes a long way in terms of framing your criticisms. Bruh, i've read trash-written incest fics and _still_ I find a way to phrase my criticisms correctly because everyone on here is passionate about what they're writing and i'd rather feed their passion and nurture them to refinery instead of tearing it down. I take everything with a grain of salt, I assure you, and I am not aversed to hearing out such criticisms -in fact, I welcome them with open arms. It's just the manner in which they come to me. As for your previous review, I completely agree about a brother's POV -which is something I already had planned but now that you mentioned it i'm considering including it more (I personally don't like to keep chapters purely Talla/Jon POV because I like giving an outsider's opinion) so I hope that serves the story better for you -also, I LOVE Eddison Tollet and i'm dying to bring him in. I had originally planned on including it in this chapter and had already written something out but it turned out there was a lot I wanted to fit in. And don't worry, far from all the brothers are happy about Talla being there and some even like Talla without liking Jon -who knows? But this chapter sees Alliser Thorne's return and if you wanted an anti-Talla voice to be heard, well, you got it now brother/sister. I can't get into detail about why Randyl Tarly is letting her stay at the Wall for now because that's a surprise but also a part of his thinking (at least in my opinion) is that he wishes to avoid a scandal by sending a sudden host of men up there especially with all eyes on him in the Capital. As for Talla's reasoning in running away well, we'll get there baby. We always do.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I apologise for any delays or discrepancies. I really wanted to get this out today.**

* * *

 **Talla**

It wasn't making any sense. She's tended to the garden religiously over the past couple of weeks and still there was not even a sprout of growth large enough to indicate that things were progressing in a way that she wanted them to; in the way that she _needed_ them to. She had tried enlisting the help of the horses and found a surprising revelation in how disgusted the brothers were by the notion of horse shit. _I've seen worse come from them, have they forgotten that I do their laundry now?_

Talla sat utterly frustrated with her elbows perched up on the small desk in her room. The desk was empty and nothing graced its surface, she did not even have a parchment to write on, but it was good for her to be sat upright -especially since Ghost lay splayed freely on her bed.

She had not wept -at least not so freely, since the first night she had let Ghost in, but the warmth his largeness brought to the room was undeniable, and Talla would not say no to a friend. He was more than just an animal to her, more than the beast that she had initially seen. " _He's not a pet_ " She recalled Jon saying on the first night they met, and Talla couldn't help but think that perhaps he was right, _he was more than just that_. Either way, she could no longer bear the thought of Ghost standing outside in the cold night while she slept in the warmth that could not quite get to her. Most nights she would succeed in getting him on the floor, but others he would be more insistent and Talla would wake up in the morning forgetting the sensation of her working feet.

"Don't look at me like that." She said lowly, trying to emulate the way she heard Jon speak to him, when she spied Ghost looking at her longingly and blinking his eyes slowly to indicate that he was ready for bed. She hadn't realised _just_ how late it was or _just_ when the Lord Commander became Jon to her, but there was hardly anything Talla could do about either of those things now, could she?

Her eyes quickly darted over to where she knew her -or more _his_ , cloak was hanging and she cursed herself for not remembering what she had promised herself not to forget earlier.

Talla hissed out in exasperation and slowly bent her head down to her elbows and onto the sharp wood of the desk,

"Ugh, The Others take you Talla Tarly." As she swore herself to oblivion she subtly felt Ghost standing to attention and heard him come to her side, by now surely worried about her mumblings.

She dared to look back at the offending garment and huffed out one final time before making a decision while stroking Ghost's fur to quell his worry.

"If I don't do it now i'll forget again by the time I wake." So she wrapped her own cloak that had been hung over the chair she was sat on around her shoulders, folded the heavier cloak gently around her arm and left the room to look for the man in the cold.

The cold was not so harsh to her now, it had grown familiar on Talla. Now it felt like entering a room, like the wind formed a pillow around her and invited her in and there weren't any frayed ends of her lying about when she made the switch -it was a smooth turnover.

Talla had taken Jon's suggestion to heart -probably because he hadn't tried to force it upon her, and moved to the King's Tower and that meant that her walk to the Lord Commander's chamber was going to be a longer one than the steps she would have taken from her previous living arrangement. Talla didn't mind, sleep was hardly entertaining her at the moment. It was painful to leave Sam's room -the room she had _shared_ with Sam, and the quarters in the King's Tower were bigger and colder but Talla thought that some concessions and compromises might take her a long way when she would later need something that only the Lord Commander could provide. _If I phrase it like that, it doesn't sound very savoury._

Of course, after meeting Alliser Thorne that morning, Talla had to be glad to be away in the King's Tower. _If there truly was a man that the Lord Commander would need to hide me away from it would be him._ Thankfully, they had not interacted all that much, but Talla could almost compare his icy glare to that of the Wight they had encountered -but instead of leaving chills on her skin it made her blood boil over.

 _"I leave and now Lord Snow's letting some girl_ play _house?"_ She remembered him mutter, _a little loud for a mutter, I think._

 _"I'd be careful not to call him that, Ser."_ One of the younger squires had replied to him while he carried his things to his chambers. The mountain of profanities that had followed after that were, of course, a blur to her ears. The memory of that night still ran cold through Talla's veins, but she felt a petty sense of happiness rise inside her at the fact that there was a reminder for the bitter brother to tread along by.

By the time her musings on Ser Alliser were dying down, as well as thoughts on just what kind of slap he should be awarded should he do something that warranted such violence from _such a girl_ , she had arrived at the Lord Commander's chamber doors and delivered a rapping knock to the wood as Ghost stood by her side.

When the door was opened Talla hardly knew where to look. There stood Jon, the Lord Commander, standing with nothing on but his breeches and looking just as arrested as she was.

"Talla." He had said, almost like he was breathing out, but Talla registered it as it rightfully had been meant; in confusion. She was muddled, so _flustered_ , by the sudden difference in the man's appearance that it had almost slipped her how delicious her bare name sounded as it left his mouth.

His chest was marred with scars of all kinds of superficialities, but around his gut dotted a myriad of bulbed circles -like burns, that swarmed above a deep gash that still looked unhealed for the most part. Talla's eyes fell into the sharp indentation, and she found herself at a loss to look away from the wound and its reason for being there.

Quickly, she reprimanded herself silently to recall just what had caused her to journey all the way to his chamber door so late into the night.

"I...I have your riding cloak." She lifted the arm that the heavy fur was folded over and he registered it, but the confusion still never fully left his eyes.

"I thought it was about time I returned it before I forgot again." She added letting an awkward chuckle slip out of her.

Considering how uncomfortable Talla currently felt at their current dress code none of it seemed to rub off on the man standing before her. He seemed completely at ease in the state he was in even though he was standing in the twilight where the warmth met the cold.

"I was wondering when i'd see that again." He said with a smile, and it had been a more careless one than those he usually gave her in the day time when he was Lord Commander Snow. _Here he is just Jon, like he is with Sam._

"You could have just asked for it back, you know. It would have reminded me." She contested as she moved the cloak from her arm to his, trying not to feel just how warm his skin was against hers. She rubbed her hands together briskly after the exchange, and looked to him for his retort.

"I knew you'd figure it out eventually." She waved him off, remembering something else she wanted to mention in the process.

"Although I might need that back soon. I fear the cloak I wear isn't heavy enough to counteract the cold your latest returned ranger has brought with him."

"It's to be expected. He is a big enough thorn in my side as it is."

"Was that a joke, Lord Commander?" She teased and in turn his smile only grew, and Talla realised that under all that facial hair, he had a nice smile.

 _"_ Did you ask him about the forest?" She questioned as she turned suddenly serious. Talla didn't miss the way his face slowly turned to stone at the subject either.

"I did, he said he hasn't seen anything -not in the Haunted Forest at least."

"But a lone wight? It doesn't sound right." _As if I were the expert here. I should stop talking._

Nevertheless he nodded to her statement and seemed to be in deep thought on the matter, topless and in the cold. Weeks ago Talla would have thought that he would be the one snapping at her and reminding her just how little she knew of the Wall, but it seems that things had shifted favourably for the both of them. She supposed that it _did_ make the Lord Commander's life slightly easier to not have a lady undermine his authority and argue with him at every step, and perhaps that was reason enough for him to change his disposition to her, but Talla couldn't help but admit that it was nice for her as well.

They were not exactly friends, but it could be said that it made everything run smoother for everyone involved or invested if they were not clawing at each other. He still yelled at her, he still called her out when he didn't like what she was saying, and they rarely saw eye to eye on anything, but he had learned not to make her feel small for it. And in turn, she had taken some of his suggestions to heart.

She couldn't pretend to know everything about the Wall, but she knew enough of the brothers to understand what made them happy and what did not. And Jon's clear wish to not openly engage them like he used to has left them feeling like he had forsaken them. They would, of course, never say so out loud or so openly to each other never mind to her, out of fear. And perhaps, to Talla at least, that was the saddest thing of all. That a man like Jon needed fear to rule his men. Perhaps at the Wall, that was the only way.

She couldn't pretend to know him _that_ well, or at all when it came down to it, but he wasn't cruel. She had seen cruelty, she had known it and she had lived with it. And if she had forgotten the face of it then Alliser Thorne's served as naught but a reminder -the malicious drop in his frown an ode to the hardness that she knew lay in his heart. _That much, I know_.

"We'll keep investigating." He said then, pulling her out of deep thought.

"Do you...do you ever worry?" She breathed out as she cast her head down. Talla thought that perhaps he hadn't heard her until she felt him take in a deep breath. Her voice was as little as she felt. His own voice was low when he answered.

"All the time, my Lady. Sometimes I...I don't know how any of us will make it out alive." She looked back up at him at that statement. Hopelessness sounded different coming from him, it did not suit him. Suddenly all Talla knew was that none of them stood a chance if he lost hope; she would lose all hope if he did.

"Hope is painful to have. If the White Walkers come tomorrow, we'll all die and it won't matter. But if you resign yourself today, there will never be a tomorrow. Don't act like we're all dead, we're not there just yet." She tried to add a smile at the end but even she couldn't tell how that turned out. Jon, however, seemed to return the gesture well enough -the curl he gave to his lips was what Talla imagined had just graced hers and she appreciated the thought -though not explicitly proven, that her words hadn't completely washed over him.

"I should be going back." She announced, and she wondered whether he could sense the slight pang of regret in her voice as she turned away back into the night, back into her high tower.

"Good night Lord Commander" She bid him with resumed confidence.

"Good night, Lady Talla" she heard faintly as her steps took her further and Talla found that the idea of sleep currently did not seem too adverse to her.

She yawned as she passed through the tunnel leading to her tower, a whisper in the darkness, and it wasn't until then that she registered how warm she still felt, despite the howling cold.

.

* * *

 **Jon**

She was right. She was not dead; and neither was he. They were both alive and warm, and Jon felt his eyes wander of their own volition down to her neck where her very blood ran. It was a blessing that her eyes were cast down and she didn't notice for Jon did not need another thing to add on to his list of worries. _The idea probably never even crossed her mind_ , he thought, remembering clearly that she was a lady and he was a bastard -he would always be that, and so would she.

Jon had tried his best to let the lady stay content, _for my men_ , he convinced himself, but his efforts all led to the thing he had wanted to avoid -seeing _her_. He saw her now without any curtains covering her identity; she wasn't a runaway or Sam's sister or his _burden_ , she was only Talla. _Lady_ Talla. All the titles have fallen except for that one; and it was the only one Jon could find to have any use when he needed to stop his thoughts from wondering to her at night.

He had seen pretty women, even after Ygritte -women were still pretty and Jon never lied to himself enough to say that he had no desire for them, but he had stopped himself short of letting those thoughts drift far enough because he knew his duty now as Lord Commander more than ever.

Of all the women he had seen, though, Talla was the only one who grew before his eyes with every passing day -both in beauty and in strength. He remembered Val and how his men had near stumbled at the very sight of her; _a warrior princess who looked like she was made to ride_. It was what Jon had liked most about her, the knowledge that she was no lady waiting in a tower to be rescued. After meeting Val Jon had thought that perhaps he could never look at a Lady again, he thought he knew where strength lay -and it bore itself North of the Wall. But Talla was _different_ , he could see that. He could see it even when he stabbed her noble birth, when he emphasised calling her _Lady_ Talla -even though she had yet to ask him to stop, she took everything in stride and learned to claw her way to what she wanted. _Val and Ygritte were born to the harsh cold and were bread into strength; Talla had to learn._ Wasn't that what Sam himself had come for?

It was with that thought that Jon could see the closest comparison between Sam and Talla besides their nuanced visage -courage. The will to persevere. Even though Talla wore her masks well, he still saw the same breaking spirit he had seen in Sam, and it amazed him still how neither one of them had resigned him or herself -even when Talla had the option to.

Jon woke up the next morning feeling still very tired from the night before -warging into Ghost took a toll on him. He hadn't felt the need to do so since Talla moved to the King's Tower and thus farther away from the other brothers' living quarters, but it had almost become a habit. He noticed that she kept Ghost within her chambers now, and a part of him felt ashamed that he was unabashedly afforded a glance into the part of her she would never show him, whilst a part of him -a part he had not yet learned to control, felt more at ease keeping her under watch.

Whenever he was with her at night he would take to the floor and watch until she fell asleep; he was glad to see that his sense of honour had survived death after all. Watching her wide eyes gently lull to sleep was preferable, in Jon's opinion, to the burn that chased him when he slept, anyway.

Nevertheless Jon got up, same as usual, and dressed himself swiftly before leaving his chambers and making his way to the watchtower via the tiltyard. It was not the fastest route -but it was where he knew Talla would be and it had become another habit of his, of _theirs_ to be exact. They never spoke of it and it wasn't exactly agreed upon, but still every morning he would pass her "on his way" and they would speak -however shortly it my have been. She'd tell him what she was planning on doing that day -sometimes even asking for his approval, and he would let her know of any changes. They would always nod awkwardly to end the exchange and walk off in different directions with Ghost taking turns on who to follow every other day.

Of course, he found her and Ghost there standing in the snow, _waiting_ , and Jon meditated on just how much she might have looked forward to seeing him.

"Morning."

"Morning." They repeated like every morning.

"Working on the garden today?" He inquired smoothly.

"Once Albett is up. For now i'm seeing to some repairs -Owen's boots are falling apart it seems." He refrained from wincing at the thought of Talla sowing up a dead man's boots.

 _She wears a dress made from a dead man's clothes. She'll do fine._

"I'm meeting with Ser Alliser later, I think you should be there as well." As expected, Talla looked completely taken aback by his request and somehow Jon found it in him not to smile; not just yet.

"Me? W-why?"

"The more you're hidden from him the worst it'll get. You don't have to say anything, he just needs to see you there. It'll remind him that there's nothing he can do about it." Talla didn't look as enthused as Jon would have thought had he asked her to join her for any other meeting. Instead, a veil hung over her and she had seemed almost out of animation. But nevertheless, she responded to him much the same as he would have expected.

"I see. I'll be there, then." It almost sounded solemn were it not for the knowledge that Jon knew she'd never let him hear her like that -not after the last time.

"I'll send Satin to come find you when it's time. You have a good day, my Lady." He made to walk away before he heard her voice call out to him.

"Jon," he didn't correct her when she called him that anymore, he didn't want to.

"I think you should sit next to me during dinner." The request took him aback, and his mind raced frantically over what exactly it meant before she swiftly added, "I think you should sit with all of them." It was now that Jon found it especially peculiar, and his brow knotted in confusion as to why she would ask such a thing of him before the familiar sense of worry clouded his mind.

"Why would you have need for my presence, my Lady? Are you having trouble with any of the brot-"

"No, no, it's not that. Far from it." She interrupted and Jon only grew in confusion before letting her continue.

"I think it'd be good for them, to have you there. I don't think the distance is doing them any good." _Of course. Was there nothing she had no opinion on?_

"I thank you lady Talla for your suggestion but be at ease that it isn't necessary. I know what's good for my men. Good day." The words left him angrier than he had initially meant them to, but as he spoke he felt the fire rumble inside him and there was little he could do to stop its flames -not when he was around her at least.

Jon walked off again, only to be interrupted once again amidst his stormy scene.

"I heard my father say once that Stannis Baratheon would break before he bends -is that what you're like? Would you rather have anyone snap before you concede?" He looked back at her, an unbreakable stick in the ice, and yet her eyes held nothing but sincerity - _perhaps even a hint of worry, could it be the same as mine?_

"Jon they're _you're_ men. Don't alienate them any further, you have to remind them you're still one of them. None of them _want_ to fear you. They need to remember that you're the man they chose." And now she was pleading, pleading for something that would not serve her in any way -and Jon wondered why she cared enough to stand in the cold and fight him on it.

"Even if i'm not that man anymore?"

"Even if you're not that man anymore."

* * *

 **Jeren**

Jeren kept watch silently as Ser Alliser's accusing eyes shifted inconsistently from Commander Snow to the Lady of much confusion and discourtesy to the returned brother.

He himself could not pretend not to have an opinion on the matter -though he wouldn't dare, not at the moment, voice it as prominently as his Ser Alliser was. Jeren couldn't help but see the Lady's apparently requested presence as some sort of provocation to the seasoned ranger, or perhaps even a show of . Though it was true that even he had noticed the improving relationship between the Lord Commander and their unexpected guest it was no secret that their earlier relationship had been tumultuous to say the least -both icy and flammable at the same time. There were whispers, of course, from much the same brothers he would have expected to hear it from, but some of those whispers were convincing enough to make him Jeren wonder sometimes whether the Lady's bed was being warmed by anyone. _Maybe that's why she left home -perhaps she is no longer a maid and fears the dishonour it would bring upon her house._ He had initially also entertained the thought that perhaps she, like Lady Alys Karstark -now Lady Thenn, was escaping a forced marriage, but then there had been no male kin of hers to come and claim her to her duty.

He was not accustomed to beholding such consecutive beauties at the Wall, and to him it truly was a pleasant change for his eyes, but a pleasant change was all it would be to him. Beyond that, however helpful her presence might have ever been, it was wrong to let her stay.

It was wrong for the Lady, wrong for the Lord Commander who had no business entertaining such guests, and wrong to all the brothers who were now forced to carry yet another life on their shoulders. Still, if Jeren had to choose anyone to blame he knew it rested more on the man he himself had sworn to obey.

Jeren remembered her face when Aethan, their own sworn brother, had his head swung at by the Lord Commander's sword. He knew the worst would come to the Lady after that, and no matter how much he may have disagreed with her presence Jeren knew that she had no fault in the execution -but she still wore its burden. _Quite literally, it seems_.

He had voted for Jon because he was _one_ of them, but all too soon he had grown distant, and after that horrible night to Jeren and to the rest of them Jon was someone else completely. He chose to rule with fear because he thought that was the only choice he had left -and Jeren understood that, but he never had to like it. He never had to accept that this was what life would be like -to live in a constant state of worry and hesitation at saying the wrong thing with nothing but the occasional pleasant company of a Lady too highborn to look at him the way he wanted to be looked at by a woman.

And it was not as if she looked _down_ on them, not a single one it seemed. Quite the contrary, to Jeren, Lady Talla had surprised and surpassed any expectations others' thoughts may have limited her in by working furiously at everything she attempted. " _First in Battle_ " was what he remembered someone said were her house words, and the Lady truly seemed to be so.

 _Someone had called her a rose in passing, to which she declared that she was in fact a huntress._

 _She was not a Wildling princess, but she held her beauty in her own way. She was the unexpected kind of strong, and it was nice to have someone around who wasn't so afraid of us, but she was a flower. And if anyone knows anything it's that flowers don't grow at the Wall. She is a nice girl, but she doesn't belong here. She had never had to fight to belong here. I don't know what a lady like herself could be running from, it's not our business to know -just to follow orders._

"Sam chose you," he couldn't forget her saying those words as she clutched at their Lord Commander in a way that none would dare. _We all chose you_. He thought bitterly.

"Once the Obsidian arrives we'll be able to send out more rangers to scout where the army lies. This way they at least have a better chance of coming back alive." His attention resumed to the matter being discussed. It surprised him even now how almost easy it was to talk about the White Walkers, not like mere years ago they naught but stories told to warn children of the cold.

"Aye, I say we do nothing before then." Nodded Ser Alliser grimly.

"What do you think, Lady Talla?" Asked the Lord Commander without flinching when instead everyone's head turned to the Lady in question -who herself looked like a frightened dear.

"It's not a woman's place to have any opinions, especially on these matters, _Lord Commander_." Cut in Ser Alliser to the silent room before she herself could respond.

Jon looked like he was about to respond with his hand on the helm of his sword to make him stand even taller in front of Ser Alliser but it was Lady Talla who beat him to it.

"Ser Alliser is the reigning expert on women, Lord Commander, so you best not interrupt him. Although i'd recommend one of you check what really lies in between his legs -he is _rather_ well informed."

"I see through you. There are no Lords and Ladies at the Wall." Ser Alliser sneered menacingly.

"Aye, I heard there were _men_ at the Wall." He held back a bite of laughter at the elder ranger's deepening frown and complexion that was only reddening in anger.

Jeren had to admit, though, it was almost worth being at the Wall just to see Ser Alliser's buttons pushed by such a Lady.

* * *

 **Jon**

The meeting had mostly gone as well as he could hope for, and so he didn't know why he had pushed even further to ask Talla what she thought. Jon knew full well what it would do and what the men there might take it as, but still the more reserved part of him shied away and allowed for the growing mass of boldness within to take its place. _Ser Alliser always has so much to say, what would he have to say about that?_

The gesture had, for all sense and purposes, not been taken to kindly -especially to the season ranger himself. But to all their surprises, Talla held surprisingly well against his insults and even spewed on a few of her own -which was, with all things considered, not the best choice in regard to Ser Alliser, but he wouldn't take it back. And he assumed that neither would she.

It was the early afternoon and the sun had yet to set, but everything else seemed strangely settled. Perhaps it was because Jon rarely had an opportunity to walk the ground with no purpose at such an hour, but none the less he took advantage of the opportunity to spend his moment of peace in the cold winds he was raised breaking through than in the privacy of his own strangling room. The sun, still hidden in the cover of some clouds, broke over the Wall and its rays -however weak and noncommittal they may have been, reflected through the pure ice that made up his home.

That short moment of peace shattered silently in sharp shards around him when his eyes spied the stormy figure he came to recognize as Talla's march through the gates looking in a bit of a hurry. Jon could not make out her face or what had her so hurried but there was something strange in the way she had her arms surrounding her as she curled further into herself. Ghost, of course, trotted not far behind her -but even he seemed like he was keeping enough distance between him and the lady. Choosing that moments of peace and quiet were never a Lord Commander's business to have, he darted his way towards where Talla seemed to be going and made his presence known to her as he stood in her very path.

"Any progress with the garden?" Jon asked in a pleasant enough manner before noticing how taut the Lady's face was with something he still could not place. Her eyes were nearing red and her mouth, which was always so pleasantly open for conversation, was bunched up in a restrained pout as it twitched curiously at his question.

"I...I..." She let out in breaths, and though the reason was still very unclear to Jon he now knew what was coming. Even though he could never claim to be the _reigning expert of women_ , and even though he was rarely even afforded with their company, nor was his own sister Sansa ever so open with him, he still knew enough of her tears to know the familiar sound that left Talla in airy pants.

Almost instinctively, Jon moved his gloved hand to her elbow -accidentally touching the fingers that were already curled around it in the process. He almost flinched away at her own awkward reaction to his touch, but he instead chose to keep to the word he had commander his body. Instead, his hold grew strong and steady on her elbow and he slowly ushered her away from where he was sure prying eyes gathered and into a more solitary alcove.

She still would not look at him with eyes that he now knew were veined red and threatening to spill, and he unknowingly inched closer to where he had her stood in order for her to be able to face him.

"What's wrong, Talla?" He questioned hoping he would be afforded with an answer for her sorrow at least once.

"Nothing...nothing's coming out."

"What do you mean?"

"It...it's not working! It won't work!"

"What do you mean it won't work? I thought you said you were sure? Maybe it just needs more time." But all his words seemed to wash over the lady as she continued on without him, still panting uncontrollably and cutting through words while her tears ungraciously stung her eyes.

"Now there's a whole garden gone to waste. Seed and energy, all wasted. It won't come out! I should have known it needed a glass house...I'm so stupid." Even in the slight dark Jon could see the first glistens of a single wet tear slide down her cheek and he wondered just how much better Ghost would be instead of him in this situation. He couldn't even think about what it meant for the failed garden or how his men would take it, he just didn't want to see her break again, not after last time.

"I thought I was right...I...I thought it could work. It _should_ have worked. I'm _so_ stupid." She repeated her self-accusatory words and Jon finally found it in him to stop her this time. He moved his other hand to rest on the elbow that was parallel to the one he already had in his grasp and tightened his grip in a way he hoped would be comforting.

"You're not stupid." And he meant it, _perhaps i'll tell you again one day when tears are not lining your complexion._

"I am. I have no place here, and I know _nothing_! I know nothing." She rushed to disagree.

"I know one thing, you matter." He tried to say soothingly as he moved even closer. He approached her carefully worrying that his hesitant steps would break the momentary calm he had achieved getting her to. When there was little but a breath of air between them she finally looked back up at him, eyes searching for an answer to the thousands of question she might have been asking. Jon cared not to answer anything but the blame she threw so freely onto herself.

Jon could see it now; clear as day even under the setting sun, it was a mingled concoction of both sorrow and fear -and she wore it worse than the guilt he already knew she carried for the life he had taken. He wanted to make it better, he wanted to make the pain go away -for her eyes were too pretty to look so tortured. He would carry the burden so she would not have to if that's what it meant; and he didn't bother wondering why or when he had become so soft -or how he was even capable of being so, still.

"We'll reforge some glass and the builders should have a glass house up around it in no time. We're alive now, one day at a time. Alright?" He tried to remind her of the strength her own words had provided him with earlier.

She sniffed her nose uncouthly at his newfound consolation and Jon watched on with a small smile in his heart as the first glimmers of hope sparked in her eyes before they dulled once more with the reality of where they were and everything that meant.

"The Wall is no place for such mistakes." She almost sounded like him -solemn and not overtly convinced, waiting to be proved wrong.

"Nevertheless, wear them like armour and they can never be used against you." He repeated the same words a man he would call an enemy had said to him, and as he watched the deep curl of her mouth relax back into the easy line he had gotten used to Jon almost sent out a silent thanks to the imp.

* * *

 **Talla**

 _The last time. The very last time. Never again._

She had had enough of all the tears and all the sadness -it was far more than she had ever felt back at Horn Hill. But it was the first time she had ever encountered such failure in the face of _such_ expectations. Talla was doing well enough, she was on her way to her rooms bottling up the avalanche threatening to fall inside of her until the Lord Commander, _Jon_ , had stepped in her way.

And more startling than the realisation that her grand and well fought-for plans were literally not coming to fruition was the show of kindness that the Lord Commander clearly had no need to display to her. After his request for her presence at the meeting with Ser Alliser and his obvious want to push the boundaries as a show of his command Talla was by now sure that she was a prop; she had even gone so far as to chalk up her improving relationship with the Lord Commander as something that was just for show -born out of necessity. But as he stood closer to her than any man ever had with no one's eyes watching her mind filled itself with doubts once more.

Those doubts, those _dangerous_ doubts swirled through her mind now as she did the prep work for that night's dinner. She was in better spirits now, of course, though she did worry about the repercussions of building a real glass house would have no both their resources and the men. With Alliser Thorne's return came

Talla heard steps come from behind her, heavy and uncoordinated, and she recognised them to be Owen's. Her smile grew for the first time that day as she continued on what she was working on without turning around to face her new visitor.

"Th' boots fit better now!" She liked him because he never called her "My Lady" -although she would not yet ask anyone else to refrain from doing so, they'd surely do the exact opposite. _Perhaps I like you best then, Owen._

"Do they? That's lucky." It was not. She had added another pelt in the sole when she fixed them since he had said they're a bit too loose fitting.

"What's for dinner?" She heard him approach closer to spy the ingredients she had laid for prep on the table and she instantly moved her hands to cover the food protectively, finally turning her head to face the large brother.

"You'll just have to wait like everyone else." A genuine frown appeared on his face and Talla gently elbowed him, knowing her bony attempt to push at his muscular arms would do nothing to him but grow a toothy smile in his features.

"Take Ghost to the Lord Commander, will you? I'm afraid he's just as curious as you are." She jokingly ordered, but still with a toothy smile Owen waved Ghost over to him and Talla heard the pleasant thumps of his footsteps leave the kitchen. _The kindest soul at Castle Black_. It was almost a shame to her that all that kindness and gentleness should be wasted where cruelty was so often bred. _Perhaps the Wall needs men like you, Owen._

Not soon after Owen had left did Talla hear another set of footsteps approaching the kitchens -this time they were far more nimble, far more silent. Once more, she didn't turn around, instead thinking that at this time of day the brothers would simply be too hungry to not chase after their curiosities.

"Castle Black doesn't need a scullery maid." Came from a voice Talla now recognised as Alliser Thorne's, and she turned around pensively to those same accusing beady eyes.

"It doesn't? I'll be sure to hang my apron at the end of the day, then." Her quips were easy enough to come; but they were the only armour she had against him. And as he stepped swiftly to her, his straight nose a small distance from her hair as she audibly sniffed her, she reflexively pushed her hand back onto the working table in search for something sharper than her tongue to aid her.

"For a pig's sister you don't smell too bad. We'll see how long that lasts, Lord Snow has a taste for unwashed whores." Just then his hands moved to her neck and she moved fast, swatting off his reaching grip with one hand and bringing the knife between them with the other.

"Make your decision, Ser. Have no fear I have already made mine." She tried not to sound as shaky as she felt; but Ser Alliser's sharp sneer told her that he knew how afraid she was.

"You highborn ladies...you think you can do whatever you want. You don't belong here." He stepped backwards but his words still felt close and cutting to her, yet the hand holding the knife relaxed as it dropped to her side.

"I don't take my orders from you."

"Aye, you take them from Lord Snow, don't you?" She shrugged him off as she turned around to face the table once more, deciding that there was nothing that would work with Ser Alliser except for ignoring his obvious want to be heard. _Your complaints fall on deaf ears, Ser_.

Before she could fully turn around she felt a gloved hand pull harshly at her tight braid and another swat at the hand that held the knife -effectively disarming her. Talla's stomach turned in more disgust than fear when he turned her around to face him. Her eyes scanned furiously at the ugly indents that marred his rough flesh that wouldn't be noticeable from a farther proximity; she couldn't look away from the face of cruelty -not now, not anymore.

Sensing that she was judging him more than he her, Ser Alliser pushed her the other way around again so that he was holding her head to the table and the hard and rough wood scraped against skin she knew was far too delicate to be this far North.

"Where's Lord Snow now, M'lady?" He said tauntingly as Talla tried to fight back -however feeble her attempts may have been. He chuckled gruesomely as she tried to fidget her way out of his grip -instead he increased the pressure that held her head to the table and she grew into a mess of shuddering shoulders.

"Beg. Beg for mercy." He ordered, but she couldn't. The words turned to sand before they could leave her mouth, and instead all that left her were her sorrowing and incomprehensible whines at the pressure he held against her.

Now incensed with her subordination, Ser Alliser gave her hair one final hard tug up -which had almost been enough to make Talla scream, before he brought her head back to the table one final time -this time harsher and harder. He stilled and loosened his grip on all the parts he had a hold of after dealing the final blow.

"The Wall belongs to those that fight for it." He let out, low and snarling -completely unashamed and unforgiving.

He walked away wordlessly and swiftly after that, leaving Talla crumpled around the wooden table with nothing but the searing pain and the shame for company. For the second time that day, tears threatened to spill.

 _The last time. The very last time. Never again._

* * *

 **"alliser comes back. he says the thing and they cover the garden with glass he doesnt make her feel stupidt for it. they acting like partners now"**

 **I'm not too adept at writing from a brother's POV so I apologise if it's not up to par but i'll keep at it because I truly believe that the story needs it.**

 **How'd you like Talla's clapbacks? Oh honey do I have more in store for you -I honestly don't know how i'm going to fit everything in the upcoming chapters!**

 **Please let me know what you think -good or bad, I promise I can handle it.**


	9. A Rose in Winter

**A/N : Hey guys, sorry this has come out a bit later than usual. But i've started a new story that I was playing with - Sliding Doors, plus uni work has been pretty overwhelming lately. For those of you waiting for JonxTalla action I trust that you will not be disappointed by this chapter...we definitely get some very clear first inklings!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Jon**

He hadn't exactly taken her suggestion to heart -it was more out of curiosity that he wandered around the common hall that night during dinner. Talla's curious absence was noted but the men seemed content enough -except for a select few of course, and so he assumed that perhaps she had chosen to tend to Ser Wynton tonight instead. Ghost in particular seemed more anxious than anyone else at the loss of the Lady's presence and he whined constantly motioning to the door whenever Jon looked at him. _Can't wait to reunite with your Lady, Ghost?_

He was about to nod to the direwolf his approval so that he could find his new friend for himself, but something stopped him before he could motion to Ghost and he got up unexpectedly, choosing to help Ghost look for the Lady in question. There was nothing to suggest that something was amiss, but Jon reasoned to himself that it was perfectly natural for him to want to make sure -just in case she had managed on getting herself into anymore trouble.

As he walked to Ser Wynton's chambers he couldn't erase the sight of her tears bleeding down her cheeks and break that was threatening to tear her apart earlier on in the day. Jon was not well versed in consoling highborn ladies but he thought that he had done a well enough job of calming her -it helped that he hadn't lied to her that time. He spoke to her with sincerity, and he came to the realisation that perhaps that is what Talla sought out above all else.

They had all agreed to start keeping Ser Wynton's chamber door unlatched since it made checking up on him and getting to him in case of emergencies easier -which unfortunately they needed to do more and more these days as his condition was deteriorating. And so when Jon unlatched the door to the aging brother's room he found it curious to find only the lone lump of Ser Wynton sitting up in his bed sipping at a pot of soup without Lady Talla by his side to help him -as he had anticipated.

"What is it boy?" Grumbled out Ser Wynton, and Jon took no offense at the way he was addressed -I could hardly blame a man losing his mind.

"Has Lady Talla left you?" Jon asked as nicely as he could allow himself to.

Ser Wynton's brow creased in response.

"Who's Lady Talla?"

Jon sighed. It was worse than he thought it was.

"The girl. The girl that comes here and helps you, was she just here?"

Realisation finally filled the tired eyes that Jon was facing and Ser Wynton began nodding his head furiously.

"So she just left?"

Ser Wynton's nods turned to aggressive shakes to the head and were it not for the confusion Jon was facing over Talla's whereabouts he would have worried that it probably would not do the brother much good to keep shaking his head like that.

"Wynton. Was she here or not?" He asked roughly this time.

"No one was here boy! Now leave me and Marren alone!"

"You have a good night, then." The man waved him off with his thin fingers and Jon shut the unlatched door, leaving him out in the cold and wondering where Talla had gone to once more.

 _If she wasn't tending to Ser Wynton that means that she's probably in her rooms already_. Jon stopped himself short of feeling relief when he remembered the arduous day she had had, and for some reason his worry did not faded. It was improper -it had to be, for him to go to her room, especially so late in the night, but nevertheless his feet took him to the King's Tower of their own accord. _Just to be sure_ , he tried to reason with himself.

He came to the unfamiliar door sooner than expected and noticed light seep from under it -meaning that she was still awake. He was confused to see that he hesitated only slightly before finally knocking on the door, remembering to remove his gloves right after.

A shuffling sound could be heard from behind the door and slowly a shadow dimmed the light that was emitting from the bottom of the door. Jon could almost feel her press herself on to the opposite side of the wood and he had to shake the thought away before he could let himself get too far.

"Who is it?" Came her voice from behind the door, smaller than he remembered it to be.

"It's me," He didn't know why he thought she'd recognise his voice, "it's Jon."

He didn't know why he was suggesting she start knowing him by that name either.

"Is everything alright?" She asked hoarsely.

"Yes, yes, I umm...you weren't at dinner or with Ser Wynton so I thought I should see if...if all was well with you."

An answer didn't come as swiftly as he would have preferred, and silence filled the gaping distance between them.

"Yes I-i'm fine. It was very good of you to ask, Lord Commander." She didn't call him by his name, not like before.

With her answer came Ghost's sudden interest in the conversation taking place and the direwolf pushed slightly passed Jon, who was already leaning on the door, and began whining once more in protest. It didn't take long for Ghost to start scratching at the door when his new friend wasn't responding to his obvious pleas to be let in.

"I think you've spoilt Ghost for the cold, my Lady." He joked surprisingly lightly.

Jon was stood so close to the door that he could feel her breathe out lightly -not exactly in laughter but still _something_ that sounded truer to her than her responses thus far.

"Perhaps he's the one spoiling me." Despite her more lively quip Jon still registered the tired tone her voice took and decided to reluctantly chalk up her strange behaviour to the long day.

" _Eat and sleep, both things Talla's no good at."_ He remembered Sam saying to him once, and Jon thought that standing at her door would probably not help her get any more sleep than she was already missing.

"I'll umm...i'll leave Ghost here and leave you to it, My Lady. Good night." He didn't know who he was nodding to when he said it.

"Good night, Lord Commander." _There it was again_. He didn't know why it was starting to bother him. Perhaps it was because he was starting to get used to the way his birth name sounded coming from her.

He didn't know why he did what he did next; but he did it anyway. Instead of turning his back on that door, on _her_ , he took one step away and waited a moment for her to open the door and welcome Ghost in. It wasn't a long enough wait for her to question his motives, nor was he hidden enough to cause suspicion, but he would be lying if he said it was less than duplicitous of him. She had said she was fine, but the part of him that was perhaps closest to Ghost knew he needed more than just her feeble reassurance to truly believe it. _Why do I need to believe it, anyway? Why does it matter?_ Jon made sure to ask himself that question every time he caught himself slipping when it came to the Lady. _She's my responsibility. It's my responsibility to know._

It was a probably a bad idea. It was a bad enough idea that he had even gone there at all, never mind when the sun had set, for both their sakes. Talk had always washed over Jon's head and he had learned long ago not to let it bother him, especially up in the Night's Watch, but it was for Talla's sake he worried. There had been, as he expected, much talk and speculation regarding the Lady and her _honour_ -honour that he could not forget promising to _preserve_. He would hear whispers in passing about what some of the men wished to do to her and, especially since Ser Alliser Thorne's return, whispers of him bedding the Lady were growing boldly louder. _As if a Lady would ever lie with a bastard_.

A sudden gush of warmth made a noble but meek attempt to battle the freezing night cold when the door opened. It took less than a second for Ghost to bolt through to the now open chamber and for Talla to realise that Jon was still there, facing her. And what he saw before him sent thralls of an unknown anger through him.

"What happened to you?" He approached her hurriedly and nearly brought his bare hand to the left side of her face where an offending bruise lay defiantly.

With only the fire in her room the soft light danced about the dark bloom of colour that stemmed from her cheek to her eye. She flinched as he came closer and turned her face to the side so that only her right side was visible. But Jon had already seen the damage; and he could not unsee it.

"I-I fell." Her soft voice let out without looking at him. He didn't need to hear it to know that she was lying.

"Talla," she still flinched when he touched her chin -something he didn't even know he was doing, but she let him turn her face around to better study the source of Jon's rightful worry.

He had seen her earlier today, which meant that that certain development was new, and even though it marred a dull darkness upon her skin Jon had had enough bruises in his life to know that it would only get worse and darker by the morrow.

"Who did this to you?" He didn't immediately notice his grip tightening on where he held her chin until she shut her eyes, and so he quickly came to his senses and let her go but still stood as close as he had been. He needed to be as close as the offending mark was, he needed to see it.

"No one." She was lying again. Jon wasn't afraid to admit now that Lady Talla Tarly did many things well -but like her brother, lying was not one of them. _You can add that to your list, Sam._

"Talla," He couldn't stop saying her name. It was as if it brought him more comfort than it would have for her, "tell m-"

"I already told you." Exasperation, anger and exhaustion all bled through her voice in that one short sentence, and instead of finding it in him to consider her position and wishes Jon only grew more enraged at the bruise and how it came to be.

"Someone did this to you! Was it Ser Alliser?" Jon only grew more incensed at the speculation and the accompanying image -Ser Alliser's grim sneer and Talla's wet hot tears. _She wouldn't cry in front of him._

"No." Her answer came far too quickly and he couldn't believe her even if he tried.

"What happened? Are you -are you hurt?" Images and ideas flew around his mind and he had to restrain the growing red inside him at the thought of what else someone had done to her; of what else he knew these men were capable.

"I told you, it's nothing, i'm fi-"

"It's my responsibility to know! Who did this? Did he strike you? Where was Ghost in all of this?" He was glad they were in the King's Tower so no one could hear the growing emotion that he always tried to discard in his voice, but that bruise and her broken eyes kept taunting him.

"No one did anything. Jon, please." She finally brought her eyes to his and in them he could see clearly the fear of having another life on her shoulders.

"Whoever did this must be brought to-"

"You can't do anything without proof and i'm telling you that I _fell_. So you can swing your sword on as many heads as you like, Lord Commander, but neither you or your men will hear a word from me." Jon didn't know how strength could be so quickly summoned -just a moment ago her eyes danced sparingly on the floor like it was painful enough for her to have him look at her.

Jon stepped back, the wood flat and cold beneath his boots and the air heavy with everything unsaid.

"I don't know what you're trying to do." He let out just a whisper louder than the wind that was not blowing between them.

"I'm tired, Jon." Her eyes did not fall away from him as she said it, and he somehow knew that regardless of her statement she would not be getting any sleep that night.

This time with purpose and thought, Jon daringly brought his hand to her stained cheek with a delicacy he thought he had always lacked. She shivered under his feathery touch, but still held strong as she remained looking at him as he was at her.

"I won't let this happen again."

It was far too tender a moment that a Lord Commander could allow himself, it was unworthy of him and the office he held.

"Good night, Lord Commander." Her hair, that he had only now just noticed was left down as opposed to the tight braid he was used to, flowed around where he still held his fingers cupping her cheek as she turned back into the safety of her room.

* * *

 **Talla**

The worst part of all of it were the eyes constantly prying onto her. Before she had even left her room that morning Talla had already come up with a million different excuses to explain the ugly blooming shadow that marred her face.

 _"I fell."_

 _"I accidentally hit the table."_

 _"I pulled at a pan too hard and it backfired."_

She thought up a thousand and one reasons that no one would question before she settled on one; the same one she had told the Lord Commander even though he knew she was lying.

Talla didn't know what to make of it; be it his visit, her reaction to his own reaction or the worry of failure that she mistook for tenderness when he placed his hand upon her cheek. She thought about Sam, and how he must have made his friend promise him to take care of his sister just as he had asked the same of her, and if she knew anything about Jon Snow it was that he cared for her brother -how must he have felt to think that he had failed him?

She refused to name Ser Alliser as her assailant, however much she might have wanted to see his head mounted. But she wouldn't have a man's head for striking her -she would not let herself be weak enough to call it an offence. The men had seen enough of their brothers die; especially those at the hand of their other sworn brothers, adding one more to the list was not something Talla would allow herself to put them through -no matter how much she hated him as pain budded through her cheek.

When she had had the time to think it through later into the night she regretted not giving the Lord Commander a name even less. Ser Alliser was not some green boy. He had attacked her assuming that she would tell Jon, and he would have surely expected Jon to confront him about it. Perhaps Ser Alliser wanted to use the confrontation as pretext for starting a revolt and getting the brothers to turn on their Lord Commander again -which was unlikely anyway. He must have expected _something_ to happen if the way he regarded her the next day was anything to go by.

She had purposely kept out of everyone's way -especially during daylight hours. It was hard enough to hide the gaping bruise from peoples' eyes -it was even harder to hide from someone who was waiting to seek it out and glare at it with malicious pride.

Talla had gotten all sorts of questions, and she had answered them all successfully without faltering, but when it came time for dinner once more she tended to Ser Wynton instead -she might as well have made herself useful since she knew she was not prone to join them in the common hall.

The elder brother was losing his grip long before Talla had gotten to him, so it was no surprise to her that he would have a reaction when he saw the offending bruise. There was a certain safety to indulging him in his other world and situations that didn't happen. Even as he called her bruise ugly, _like a battered rose_ he had said, it didn't sting as much as the sympathetic eyes of her brother's friend.

She went to bed hoping that the Lord Commander would not knock on her door again and that her bruise would no longer define her in the morning

The next day, just as Talla watched over Owen sawing the base for the impromptu glasshouse she heard the rise of the gates sounding through Castle Black and her curiosity got the better of her.

By the time she had made it out to the yard there was a large carrying crate covered in beaten leather, but by the way it indented into the snow it was apparent that whatever it was carrying was remarkably heavy.

The men who rose in with the delivered goods spoke to one side with the Lord Commander who nodded to them as he listened wearing the same sullen face. By the end of their conversation Jon had brought his gloved hand to his brow and sighed out inaudibly. Talla had only been able to hear snippets of the ensuing conversation.

" _All the obsidian we could dig on such short notice..."_

 _"Has King Stannis not gone back south?..."_

 _"Last we heard he was here..."_

 _"Has no one heard from his Grace?..."_

There was no news of the assumed King or his march onto Winterfell; the North remained silent -and silence was at its most dangerous in winter.

Jon called a meeting with his men in his office and for the first time that day they shared glances. Perhaps Talla was still reeling, perhaps she was still overtly sensitive from the strike that she had since sworn would not shake her, but Talla could almost swear that the Lord Commander's eyes fell into hers pleadingly. It was the closest thing to pained or apologetic she had ever seen the man, and while a part of Talla wanted to know what a man like him would do for redemption the part of her that had grown proud and strong felt sick at the sense of responsibility he held for her.

The head steward of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea arrived not an hour after the mysterious crate had entered the stores and as if knowing by his surroundings and by the way everyone stared, he walked briskly to where he knew a meeting would be held. He was a dour looking man, young still but his hair was grey and she would daresay the crease in his brow was more sullen than that of his Lord Commander's. _Perhaps he hid humour well._ She thought to herself until she remembered the last time she had underestimated the extent of someone's sourness. _Or perhaps not._

Talla felt as if she was planted in the yard, spying any changes strangely to determine what had newly developed -she didn't want to put herself through the process of having to ask.

 _What has you so weak, girl?_ She could hear her father's voice echo through her. It was something she'd successfully managed to drown out -she'd gotten more adept at it with every time he would leave after a visit at Horn Hill. It was strange for his voice to bubble up now of all times and places. It was even stranger for Talla to allow that to inspire strength in her instead of letting it tear her down as it usually did when she listened hard enough.

 _I am not a bruised or battered rose._

With regained purpose, Talla walked back to the kitchens that she had previously avoided since the incident that had taken place without her consent. Pushing all thoughts of that out of her mind she got to work at a usually humble dinner that would now be a feast. _Eastwatch's steward's arrival should be cause enough to celebrate, shouldn't it?_ Surely the brothers in black would not mind having a cause -however un-monumental it may have been, to celebrate.

It wasn't _much_ more, but it was _something_. Talla knew of many men who did less -worked less, suffered less, and yet their bellies were always full and their fancies always came with choices. So the least she could offer them for their hard work -to their oaths, the Wall and even to her, were some choices.

She worked on a deep marrow broth, salted strips with a bed of potatoes, and an embellishment of the bread she usually baked with added sugar, honey and raisins to make a pastry.

Tonight, regardless of who was in attendance, she would rule the dining hall and the brothers -be it criminals, bastards or knights, they would be gentlemen.

 _You can take the girl out of the Reach but I suppose you can never take the Reach out of the girl._

In thought of the Reach, her homeland, as she left the kitchens to head to her chambers to prepare for what she had in store Talla mused on one of the Lord Commander's squires -the handsome one. _Satin,_ she recalled. He was a rose if Talla ever saw one -delicate and yet growing strong against all conditions. _Why couldn't my garden thrive like he had?_ He hadn't spoken to her much, but every time Talla was in his presence she could smell the perfume that wafted from his still growing and very neatly trimmed beard. And however much she tried to keep it at arm's length it still reminded her of home. And with that in mind she headed to the squire's quarters steadily. It was still early and so it was unlikely he was with the Lord Commander to ready him for the feast that they didn't know she had in store for them -and anyway, Lord Commander Snow was hardly one to 'get ready' for dinner.

"M'Lady?" He said with wide eyes when he opened the door, and Talla hoped she did not look as predatory as she felt seeking out a man in his own chamber's.

"Satin, right?" She tried to sound more sure than either of them felt.

"Yes, M'Lady."

"I wish...I wanted to ask you about the umm...the perfume you use."

"Is it bothering you, M'Lady?" He questioned nervously, touching his beard as if to somehow brush the scent away.

"No, not at all! It's very pleasant -and very welcome in comparison to all the other smells here if you know my meaning." He finally relaxed enough to smile and Talla felt pride at the headway she had made.

"I was wondering whether you had some to spare, actually..."

"You don't mind, M'Lady?" He regarded her strangely with a raised brow.

"Mind what?" Talla couldn't think of anything to mind, after all it was she that was asking for the favour. If anything she should be asking him whether or not he minded.

"Never mind. Just a moment, would you like to come in?" She stepped inside his humble quarters, only adorned by a bed, chair and table that comforted a single candle on it and no parchment -just like her.

Talla took a seat on the low chair as Satin foraged through a trunk under his bed, eventually producing a small vile of see-through liquid.

"It's not much but it's quite strong." He announced shyly as he handed it to her.

"Thank you, Satin. I really appreciate it." She said sincerely, the little glass vile feeling like much more in her hands than what it looked like.

"Be careful when you use it, like I said it's quite strong and it might irritate your skin as well as leave a strange tangy after-scent. The best way to use it is through your hair." His eyes danced to her growing braid and she crumpled her brow in confusion -through her hair?

She was never very fond of that sort of thing -all she knew how to do was a braid that would give her a clear view for the day and headaches by the nighttime, other than that it was her mother who would comb through her hair when the need arose for it.

She removed the cork from the vile and upturned it slightly into her index and middle fingers, which she then brought up to dab at her hair.

"Like this?" He nearly laughed -she could see his jaw tighten forcefully for a moment as he held back. But instead he gifted her a sympathetic smile and gently took the vile from her hand.

"I can show you, if you wish M'Lady." She didn't know what showing her implied, but she agreed to it anyway, now suddenly perplexed that there was something she hadn't mastered.

He stood behind the chair she sat on and proceeded to undo her braid with surprisingly soft fingers. He weaved his fingers through her hair, undoing all the unseen knots and smoothing down the curls that the plait had conditioned her hair into -but Talla nearly wept at the contact. It was the very feeling, the very notion of being touched that brought her to her breaking point. It had been so long since she had been touched like that, with love and care even though she hardly knew the squire. It was something she only shared with her mother, the gentle caress of letting her touch her and the mindful strokes she would give as she tried to straighten her wild curls. It felt good to be set free, she felt...unwound. And as Satin combed through her hair with the scent she had come for and began twisting the hair from the sides into a gentle plait at the back of her head while the rest of her hair flowed free she thought of the last time she was touched -by Jon. It wasn't unwinding, it wasn't comforting in the slightest, it was searing and she could feel where his bare hand had touched her face for hours on into the night. It confused her and racked through her brain, parts of her examined it whilst other parts revelled in it -but most of Talla didn't understand it. He was hot and cold and nice and mean and free then brittle, with all those things combined she couldn't figure out why he'd lean in to touch her like that -or why he had done it so tenderly.

The room stayed silent as Satin kept himself to the task and Talla kept herself to her frantic thoughts, and when it was over the awkwardness did not completely dissipate from the room and she gave him a quick smile and short nod before she left his room without a care of who saw her exit.

* * *

 **Eddison**

Edd had never had luck on his side, and from the way he projected his life would continue if he made it that far he wouldn't even dare say that luck was ever or would ever be on his side -but he _supposed_ it was lucky that the dragonglass and the lack of news from King Stannis's march -which was news in itself, arrived before he did so he didn't have to sit through the first hour of a boring meeting -he could just get the main pointers.

They were not _completely_ unarmed against those dead things. Something wasn't right with Winterfell if it was staying silent. Ser Alliser was back, as big a pain as ever, and didn't approve of the Lady he himself had only caught a glimpse of on his way in.

She was hard to miss -highborn ladies were not a common sight at Castle Black. Although, he supposed, perhaps soon it would be judging by its recent popularity amongst unmarried noblewomen.

Said noblewoman, it seemed, was determined to teach old dogs new tricks. Dinner that night was a feast for the crows in the hall, _were those...pastries?_ It was hard to miss her as she walked the halls while the men took their dinner -occasionally swatting some hands away from scratching their ears or switching the fork and knife from Owen's hands. _We're at the Wall, no one has time to indulge you._ Manners hardly mattered here, manners would hardly matter to anyone if they knew what hovered just on the other side.

He would never say it out loud but she perhaps even made a more competent steward than he himself -she sure had the enthusiasm for it that he didn't. But then again he rarely had that for anything. Eventually, Eddison found the Lady approaching his bench and he shuffled nervously as he realised she was sitting next to him. He wouldn't indulge her in acting like any sort of gentlemen, but he'd at least afford her with some conversation since she seemed so eager.

He sat next to the much talked about Lady, and from her gentle southron beauty he had wished that he was there to witness the last Lady that came to the Wall even if she was a northerner -anyone south of the Wall lacked a certain roughness that defined the spearwives he was charged with.

"So what's a cheerful man like you doing in the Night's Watch?" He didn't ask about her bruise -he could tell by how she forced her joviality that the glaringly obvious bruise was not to be a subject of conversation.

"A recruiter told me ladies couldn't resist a man in uniform -he conveniently left out the celibacy vow."

"As noble a pursuit as any, I suppose." She nodded initially before adding, "Though I'd assumed one would already know what joining the Night's Watch entailed."

"No need to rub salt in the wound, M'Lady." It came out as deadpan as always -but she didn't seem to mind. Actually, if Edd was ever successful at reading a woman, he was getting the feeling that she enjoyed his company and despite many other requests to join other tables she stayed by his side along with Pyp, Grenn and Lefthand Lew who all laughed together at his stories of Emmet and the spearwives -and the long gone rats.

He was a man grown in black, he had faced betrayal by his own brothers and dead men that walked in their broken bones -the spearwives alone were enough to turn a green boy grey, but he still blushed a little when she spoke to him with a softness he was too pessimistic to miss. _Pretty ladies don't belong up here, and especially not around the likes of me._

Jon sat on a far away table occasionally conversing with other rangers that were present at a meeting with that same glum face. If it were even possible, Jon was even more somber and damper since becoming Lord Commander, and Edd was sure he was not the only brother who thought so. It was getting harder and harder to follow him when the only factor dangling was fear -it left far too much room to question why they had even wanted him there in the first place and whether or not he was doing what they thought he'd do. He distanced himself greatly from everyone, _was sitting on a table by yourself while everyone drank and laughed really worth it?_ But still, he could not let it dull his night of respite from Eastwatch.

The evening was only soured by Ser Alliser's apparent need to seek confrontation wherever he could find it -and he apparently had a bone to pick with the girl. He approached their table with those same stiff eyes that Edd was relieved to be rid of and leaned in while Left Hand Lew talked about what a smart idea Talla had to pickle some vegetable or another.

"Women are only either pretty or smart. Never both, and in many cases not even either." They had all grown so used to his incessant insults that they usually wouldn't bother -but the Lady exchanged unspoken grievances with the elder ranger as he spoke and without a moment's hesitation after his statement she hit him back.

"What kind was your mother, then?" It was safe to say -at least for him, that the night's glory had been promptly restored -if Ser Alliser's furious walk away spoke any volumes.

Still exulting from the terrible high of Ser Alliser's humiliation they all laughed and held on to it like the night would savour it. Owen even clapped his hand on the Lady's back and Pyp spit out his drink from his nose. Needless to say, they were in stitches despite the reservations he had of current company. She finally pushed herself up from the table, wiping the tears of laughter that had formed in her eyes.

"I think that's it for me." They all bid her good night carelessly without noticing that Jon had approached their table.

"I'll escort you out, my Lady." He said, his voice gravelly and quick. Without waiting for the Lady to attest him he nodded to his former peers and walked out of the dining hall just a step behind the pretty girl. Eddison wasn't sure what Jon was up to, but he reckoned himself an expert now at reading people and he knew what pissers the Gods were -this wouldn't be good.

 _You're a foolish man, Jon._

* * *

 **Jon**

The night was colder than most they had experienced recently, Jon noted, as he walked by Talla's side in silence.

He wondered again why Randyl Tarly would leave his daughter with him, or why she didn't have another home to flee from by now at least. Political marriages were being made left and right and Randyl Tarly was obviously calculating and as close to power as the Tyrells. Talla was his firstborn daughter, of an age and pretty enough in all the ways that counted -although Jon had lost count of how beautiful she was in all the ways that didn't. Surely she would have had suiters she liked, or suiters at all. Had there ever been a Lord handsome enough to win her heart? Even if there was, Jon assumed that that'd hardly be a convincing enough factor to her father. Pulling his political cap on, Jon thought about all the options Randyl Tarly would have had to send his daughter off -and what options he still had to get his daughter back. He had never had much of a mind for politics or Kingdoms or their lords, but he knew enough of what High Lords strived for to guess his way through.

 _Perhaps the Vale? Unlikely, there's hardly even an heir to that anymore. Randyl Tarly already holds court, so he wouldn't need an alliance in King's Landing. Perhaps he'd send her as an appeasement to the Stormlords?_ It sounded like a good enough justification for him, but something still felt off. Randyl Tarly was an ambitious man, and from what Jon could tell from his letter he was not one to mess around or make empty threats either, perhaps he wished to strike just as the iron was hot.

He couldn't help letting his earlier thoughts seep through as he drawled out his walk with her and his lips starting moving without a proper connection to his mind.

"There is a question that's been on my mind, I hope you don't think me insolent for asking." His voice broke through the silence as if the night ached for it.

"Ask freely, Lord Commander." She allowed him, cocking her head to the side attentively.

"Why is it you're not married yet? If you don't mind me asking." It visibly took her aback, more in confusion than in indignity, and she turned her head back to face the direction they were walking in. She didn't answer immediately, and Jon thought that perhaps he had overstepped his bounds, after all - _what right do I have to know?_

"I almost was, once" She answered quietly, to Jon's surprise.

"Oh."

"Loras Tyrell." He recognised the name. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms would recognise the name. His curiosity was fed and it wanted to know more, suddenly piqued by the famed choice, but he decided that he would not push her any further.

"I see." He simply voiced, signifying that he won't ask her any unwonted questions if that was not what she wanted. _Why would she ever want it?_

"Yes, I was to marry Loras Tyrell, the most handsome knight in all of Westeros. Knight of the Flowers." She stopped to chuckle before continuing, "Do not fear, Jon Snow, you are the most handsome at the wall."

"Thank you, my lady." He replied to her empty compliment with a smile, but continued on with a seriousness he tried to hide with humour that did not come to him easily. "I am sure Ser Loras would have thought you just as beautiful had he met you." He didn't know why he assumed that they hadn't met, he didn't know why he didn't want to imagine her betrothed knowing her like he did.

"No, I don't think he did." _So they had met._ "Though, I don't think he _could_." Jon didn't know what she meant by that, but she said it like it was something he was supposed to know.

"What does that mean?" She looked at him once again, this time with an expectant look on her face that hid a little bit of shock to his missing her point. She opened her mouth to reply, but refrained the first time and instead regarded him, still strongly holding his gaze until she spoke again.

"I don't know." She said simply, not giving him the answer he knew she had. They continued on a little longer with only the wind between them.

"Why did it fall through?" Jon didn't know why he asked that. He didn't know why he was saying anything. _Don't let her answer_.

"Ser Loras went off to war, and now he's in the Kingsguard -I can't help but feel offended." She joked, but he continued asking the question he had already asked himself earlier.

"No first son for the first daughter?" Jon felt like pushing the boundary despite his earlier want to spare her -something he never indulged himself into doing.

"It was obvious that the Tyrells needed a more... _strategic_ match for Willas, the eldest and the heir, even though he didn't really seem all that interested, so marrying within the Reach was unlikely. And with second or third sons there come no rankings I suppose, Garland and Loras were much the same except for one important thing -the defining thing, it seemed. Loras lived for glory, he lived for his name. Garland was gallant but he had no interest in what came with noble birth...I think he was a truer knight than any i'd met." The strategics and political savvy that came with her explanation was not amiss by Jon, and he didn't doubt where she learned that from.

"I'd have assumed Randyl Tarly would want his daughter to be Lady of _something_."

"I'm not beautiful enough to be Lady of anything." If he was not mistaken he would have said that there was a hint of bitterness lacing his words, and he almost preferred vanity to what she thought of herself.

"You're Lady of the Wall." She elbowed him at the returned gesture. It hardly made a dent in his flesh, but he feigned his pain and she laughed -he wondered if that's why he did it to begin with.

"That's not saying much."

"No, I suppose not."

"Ser Loras, or any other man would have been lucky to have you." It seemed like that night would be a night full of things projected out of Jon's mouth to which he could not trace the source of -or at least not a source he would admit to. She blushed prettily, and he realised that he'd rarely ever seen her cheeks such a comely pink.

"I am no Margeary Tyrell. Or Cersei Lannister. " _Thank the Gods,_ he thought.

"No, you are Talla of the Wall." He said proudly, and he hoped that she would find some pride to cling to in the process.

"As... _Talla of the Wall_ , do you not think it would be useful that I learned how to defend myself?" He looked at her again, the same way he hadn't helped looking at her after her unexpected injury. He was about to question why she had asked him that until she turned away from him once more, shaking her head, still smiling from their conversation before it had a chance to sour.

"I see i'm pushing my luck, I understand. I'll leave you to it, Lord Commander. Good night."

Jon hadn't noticed that they were already far into the King's Tower and already at her doorstep, but still he bid her good night and retired to his own room.

He lay in his bed with that same point of impact on his stomach that had barely felt like anything when she elbowed him now searing. Jon continued thinking of the day and ensuing night and noticed how easily Satin held Talla's company even though Jon had hardly seen them interact before, but tonight not once in Satin's company did her face drop or her brow crease like it usually did with him.

The next morning when Satin had come to his office to place his morning meal he gave the order -and strangely thought of Talla smiling as he said it.

"If you find yourself free for time, Satin, why don't you help train Lady Talla with a sword -somewhere private though, the Kitchens, maybe the stables."

"Train the Lady in swordplay, Lord Commander?" Satin sounded surprised, but didn't look it -not completely. He looked like it was a long time coming.

"Yes, she's expressed her interest and I think learning how to defend herself would come in handy in case she ever needs it." Jon tried not to imagine exactly what cases she would make use of such a skill.

"Of course, Lord Commander, but why me?"

"If i'm honest I think you're the only one with the patience for the task." His brother smiled widely at that and bobbed his head down, nodding in agreement.

"Thank you, Commander Snow."

* * *

 **Hope you like this! Like I said -still practicing writing from a brother's POV. I'm sorry for all the spelling mistakes in this chapter I posted it without editing but i'll fix it as soon as I can!**

 **Please review and tell me what you think.**


	10. Chivalry Is Dead

**A/N: First of all there is something I need to say,**

 **To the user Dread Knight N7, I have to thank you for the consistent support and your reviews -you really don't know how much I appreciate it. Praise is great, sure, but you give your (what I believe) honest insight and that is what I consider the most encouraging. The great thing about reviews is that it creates a dialogue and this entire experience becomes interactive. So I have nothing but gratitude for not only you but anyone else that has followed this story and let it have a piece of them :)**

 **As for this chapter -there are many things I wish to say about it; the first being that I really outdid myself trying to fit so much in one chapter, so I hope it doesn't come off as too clumsy. It's been really fun toying with Talla and Jon recently, and if the last chapters were not indicative enough of the eventual pairing then this chapter DEFINITELY will be.**

 **I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

 **Talla**

Satin's wooden sword swung carefully against Talla's rising one, and she could already tell that Satin was not yet an accomplished teacher -she was never going to learn anything if he was too afraid to push her. She expressed herself to him once it came time for a 'break'. _A break from what? We had hardly done anything strenuous, I daresay._

He blushed when she accused him of being too easy on her.

"I'm sorry M'Lady...but you _are_ a Lady." Talla rolled her eyes near violently.

"Yes! Yes, I know! I can hardly forget that up here." She plopped down on a stack of hay in frustration, her dramatics not doing any favours for her now sore backside. _Maybe,_ she thought, _there's no point in any of this. None of us will ever learn._

Talla couldn't blame them for not forgetting, her being the only woman there made it quite difficult for her to be lost in the folds of things. She couldn't just evaporate into her makeshift dress and rise again a new person -she was still Talla Tarly. _Of the Wall._ She took it upon herself to add with a small smile at the recollection of when it had been first said.

 _I am Talla of the Wall._

She shot back up, her indecisiveness always a barrier to her true sentiments, but still it was better than sitting around and waiting for someone to strike her again.

"Can we try again?"

"Yes, M'La-"

"Talla." Satin's head cocked to one side, flabbergasted at the thought of calling a highborn lady -a lady to his own home earth, by her birth name. _The south is still so fresh upon you dear Satin._ While Talla had been near grateful to shake off its tight bounds.

"M'Lady I-"

" _Talla._ " She repeated once more with a pointed look -the kind she always gave to her horse when it shook its head as she tried to groom him. _Stay still, don't fight me._

"Talla." He said it fast, like he was ripping of a freshly formed scab from an old wound, and he had barely had any time to test out how it felt on his tongue before he lowered his head once more to hide the flush of his cheeks. He picked up his wooden sword in the process, and stood in position waiting for Talla to take her own.

Her solitary and unembellished name sounded fresh coming from him, and Talla realised that she hardly ever heard many people address her that way -Jon being one of those select few now. It never sounded fresh coming from him, though. It always sounded heavy, and Talla felt a curious despondence whenever she thought of the hope but appeared and shattered in the same singular syllable that left him.

It was better after her last push to Satin -he put up more of a fight. Even though, if Talla was to be honest, there wasn't really much of a fight needed -she lacked serious upper body strength and whatever fighting she had seen in the Reach was not the same fight they fought this far north.

Wiping the sweat accumulating at her brow, Talla moved with Satin to the half-door to one of the stable rooms where they had lay their cloaks to hang. They stood in silence beside one another as they redressed -almost like a clandestine couple who had just shamed one another for their future prospects. She nearly snorted - _Randyl Tarly's daughter and a retired whore, I can't imagine the look on his face._

Satin, however, kept his head down as he tied his cloak. Talla wondered who had taught him this many manners -or perhaps that annoying sense of duty from his Lord Commander had rubbed off a little too hard on the squire. He didn't have to be so shy -so ashamed. They were no different, they were equals. _Satin of Oldtown, Satin of the Wall. Talla of Horn Hill, Talla of the Wall. We are one in the same now._

"There's no room for your chivalry here, Satin." She sighed out, hoping to coax him out of the shell he propped around him when he reminded himself of what they were -of what _she_ was. Just the other day he had combed through her hair as he weaved a deep scent of peony into her locks -his fingers nearly brought her to tears, he had seen her close her eyes and somehow open herself up with no words. So why did he feel the need to hide away like he was not privileged enough to bear witness to it?

 _I chose you, and now i'm afraid you're stuck with me._

"Chivalry's not quite dead here, M'Lady." Talla's hopes were suddenly returned to her, and she bumped her shoulder onto his as that sincere smile she had come to know crept its way to his porcelain face.

"I beg to differ." They began walking outside towards the yard, and the light -however bleak it may have been, still illuminated the dampness that ruled over the stables.

"Well then I must _beg to beg_ to differ, M'Lady." He smartly added over her disagreement.

"Arguing with a _Lady,_ Satin? What will your Lord Commander say?" She asked scandalously.

"I'm brave enough for that at least." He reasoned, though not very seriously, and so Talla looped her free arm through his as they continued on out.

"That, you are." He only scoffed in return.

"Tell that to the other brothers." Satin looked at Talla immediately after it left him in alarm at the words that just slipped out, and his tongue struggled to move to suddenly undo what was said.

Talla did not give him the opportunity to do so, for she turned to him in all seriousness and poised her brow in the scolding way she would usually fold it when it was her turn to teach her sister's a lesson on humility. She faintly reminded herself that she hadn't even thought of them once since leaving.

" _I_ see bravery in you, Satin. Bravery and beauty, not a disadvantageous combination." She said with a cheeky thumb to the brave man's chin, to which he answered with an unfamiliar smirk.

"Speak for yourself, M'Lady." She laughed, _oh it feels so good to laugh._

Their leaving of the stables hadn't gone unnoticed by some surrounding brothers, and so in some short seconds they were joined by Bearded Ben and Left Hand Lew - _what a mouthful that duo is._

Satin quietly took his leave with a faint excuse of service or other that Talla was well aware Commander Snow was in no dire need of, and so she was left with the slyly grinning brothers that regarded the makeshift sword in her hand.

"Planning on taking the black for yourself, M'Lady?" Ben teased, and Talla found herself in the mood for some lunchtime quips.

"Oh i'm sure you'd love to have me here to clean for you but, alas, Black isn't my colour." _Only dull browns -like my eyes and hair._

"You sell yourself short, M'Lady, I can already see you standing watch at the top of the Wall." He returned and Lew's smile grew sheepishly at the notion. It would have surely been a sight to behold.

Talla theatrically pressed her hand to her heart in a way she knew Pyp would enjoy, and lifted her other arm to swat across her forehead as she slightly leant back to convey the image of a dramatic damsel.

"The only watch I stand vigil by is that of my heart; and for that I pray my watch never ends." She said to them both dramatically, and their straining smiles finally erupted to lighthearted chuckles. Talla eventually shook their silliness away and walked them to the common hall where they were all surely awaiting their midday meal.

The men all ate loudly, washing down their meals harshly as they remained jovial despite their darkened surroundings. Half-way through luncheon Talla's eyes wandered to look for Satin whose disappearance she was starting to feel. He sat closer to where Jon was, but still a little alone. Talla's stare lingered on for what must have been a remarkably long time since the brothers surrounding her took notice.

"Have a good time with little Satin today, M'Lady?" It didn't sound to Talla as easy as they Ben tried to make it sound, and so she responded in more truthful measures.

"If I didn't know better i'd think you were growing jealous, Ben." He chuckled haughtily and heavily at that.

"I'd have a hard time with that, M'Lady. Especially with the likes of _him_."

"What are you suggesting?" She questioned audaciously -nearly accusing the still unknown notion being suggest about Satin.

"You needn't _worry_ about him, my Lady."

She had already heard the whispers -she'd been here for months already, and the brother of the Watch were far too careless with their gossip for it to even constitute as whispering. For men whose sworn duty was to serve and protect they surely did spend a lot of time thinking about ex-whores.

 _Yes, Satin used to be a whore in Oldtown, and I seriously doubt he had much of a choice in the matter. Even if he did, why would that matter now? Why would that matter when he swore the same oaths they did and fought in the same wars by their own side._

She knew and she didn't care. In fact, it was growing to annoy her more and more now that it was being thrown in her face like it was some offending piece of paper. Nothing was supposed to matter about the past in Castle Black, _there were no lord or ladies_. But they still shunned people the same way just for being different. They did it to Sam, they tried to do it to her, and they had been doing it to Satin for all this time. Talla would no longer turn away from it, that was as good as partaking.

"I wasn't. And I daresay I don't worry about any of you, either. Finish your food." She shoved her side of the bench back and made to stalk out of the hall, she had long since been done.

She crossed the hall rather ungraciously in her haste, but was brought to a final stop right before she reached the freedom of the outside by an unfamiliar old man with a long white beard and stormy pools of grey-blue for eyes. They stood awkwardly affront one another, both pairs of eyes studious on the person standing parallel to them.

"You're the girl?" She looked around the hall. His face was carved in the deep lines of old age, almost like the visage of the weirwood Talla had only seen once. He didn't speak like most of the other brothers -certainly not at all like Ullmer. _Only high lords speak like that, and those were in short supply here at Castle Black._

"I suppose I must be, Ser." She would never forget her cordialities, not when she encountered a past Lord that seemed intent on remaining so despite how others have shirked their chivalry. Talla never minded it terribly, in fact she preferred having her noble birth forgotten up here when it was so conveniently used against her. But the old man's unwavering courtesy was a sign of stubbornness; and a stubborn man is Talla's favourite challenge.

"Talia?" He asked with an insincere frown. _I'm sure you've heard all about me by now, Ser._

" _Talla."_ She corrected him. Her name certainly _was_ in grand circulation today.

"A Tarly. " _Is he relieved or sorry?_ Talla felt suddenly defensive over her brother, over the name that she almost forgot she bore, and chose to feel slightly affronted before she felt the shame of forgetting him so soon. _Have I forgotten you, Sam? Just like before?_

"So i've heard." _And you must be...?_

"I unhorsed your grandfathers, the both of them, at the same tourney. Landed right on their flowery arses and moped back to their lady wives." It was a drop in grace in comparison to his earlier mode of conversation, but it brought a smile to Talla's lips none the less.

"I'm sure it was very impressive, perhaps I would have heard about it Ser...?" She trailed off hoping he would understand her implication.

"Ser Denys Mallister, my Lady." His courteous countenance returned to him once again in the midst of the messy hall and neither his name nor his distinctions went unnoticed by the lady that stood before him.

 _Ser Denys Mallister commanded the Shadow Tower. Eddison of Eastwatch was here only days before...what is going on that requires their attendance and not a mere letter?_

"Will you be staying with us for long, Ser Denys?" Talla questioned as her curiosity led her to still unknown conclusions. _Us? When did it become us?_

"I'm afraid not. Only a night -I can not be away from the Shadow Tower for any longer, my Lady." _Duty is your mistress._

 _"_ I see. The Lord Commander made no mention of your arrival."

"He needn't have, anyway. It is a matter for the rangers and commanders to discuss." It was clear what he meant by his comment. He may not have shared the volatile disdain that Ser Alliser had for Talla, but he shared an important sentiment with him it seemed -it was no business of Talla's to know or ask about anything pertaining to the Night's Watch's defenses or otherwise.

Talla felt her head shake up and down apparently in a consolatory nod and she felt the deep grey of his eyes close in on her of its own volition. Everything suddenly seemed to hot -too tight and close. The common hall was already not where Talla wanted to be, and now with another person's disapproval it made for an even less desirable destination to remain in.

"Enjoy your meal, Ser Denys." She managed to mutter out, barely withholding her apprehensiveness in the cover of bitterness, and scurried the rest of the way out of the hall with not even a nervous glance back at what or who she had left.

She was back under the safe cover of her room in the King's Tower -with Ghost showing up at some point along the way of course. If it were not Ghost whose company was afforded to her in the way of her 'protection' then it was the Lord Commander himself unless she was with Satin. It was stifling at the point -how far that man to baby her was beyond Talla completely. _Where did he find the time or the energy?_ But he did not fail her -he did not fail himself most of all. One night she had to fight him not to stand watch by the tower entryway in Ghost's stead -Lord Commander Snow obviously did not think the notion as ridiculous as Talla did since he was near unwavering. Talla truly believed he would have gone ahead and done it had she not threatened that she would stand outside with him if he refused to concede -and in truth she still doubted whether he kept to his word or not when she retired to her rooms. She would never admit it, but sometimes -those rare occasions where she did not even feel safe in her own skin, it was comforting to know she had a wolf and a man waiting to protect her.

She knelt down by her bed, almost like she was in prayer to those that she had long forgotten, and stabbed her thin fingers under her mattress to feel the smooth, untouched leather of the one thing she could still keep as her secret. The one thing that perhaps did not _belong_ to her but was hers now regardless of how anyone could contest it. For the first time in weeks, she lifted the mattress all the way up and brought the leather strip atop it. She unsheathed the sword from its very helm -hard black steel encrusted with a ruby in its centre, to reveal the unrelenting shine of the undeniable Valyrian steel.

Almost marvelling, Talla ran her finger along the threatening steel that was engraved with carvings that meant so little to her now, they only confused her.

" _First in Battle." I have always been an early bird. What did this inspire, to look down upon it during the blood of battle? What fight did this procure in one's soul? I'm still trying to find mine -my fight._

 _Would I ever fight with this? What would I defend with what was left of old Valyria? What could I bring forth more than my own doom? This does not rest in the jeweled scabbard of my father's now that it is in my care. It rests in leather, roughly beaten and unrefined despite its conditioning -just like me._

Talla climbed clumsily up to her feet and brought the sword up with her using both hands -she consoled her weak upper body strength by reminding herself that it was a two-handed sword anyway. _This is how it was meant to be held._

 _But was it, really?_ It carried limply in her hands pointing down to the autonomous floor.

This was the ancestral sword of house Tarly -the best soldiers the Reach could ever boast came from Horn Hill itself, Heartsbane could not be held without aim. Exerting more pressure on her biceps, Talla brought the sword to lift, bending her elbow in the process so the sword's helm lay parallel to the middle of her chest. Coincidentally, the greatsword pointed to her small mirror and Talla squinted as the barely-there light danced off the cutting steel like a glimmer of the rising sun upon a river.

She was a sight, even to herself, standing opposite a mirror in a position that this sword might have seen slay many enemies. Her father fought and defeated the passed King Robert Baratheon with this very sword, he slew Stannis Baratheon's army on the Blackwater with the tip that now pointed tauntingly against her reflection.

"Do you come here to die, Ser?" She asked an imagined foe, wondering whether it sounded more taunting with a daunting sword in her palm.

Her world of war ended unexpectedly when a knock rasped on the cold wood of her door, effectively staggering her enough to drop the increasingly heavy sword from her hands and onto the floors.

"M'Lady?" She heard Satin's voice come from the other side of the door.

"Just a moment!" She exclaimed as she scrambled to get Heartsbane back into its leather flaggon loosely and threw it beneath her bed furs.

She opened her door painfully aware of how unprepared she looked, feeling her stray hairs break free from her face and land around her eyes. And from the look of it, Satin was aware of it as well.

"I won't ask." He stated with a small smile.

"Is there a reason for your visit Satin or have you missed my company in the last hour you had to go without it?" She asked feigning impatience, for she had no idea what she would actually be getting back to once she concluded whatever business Satin had with her at the current moment.

"Lord Commander Snow requests your presence at the meeting with rangers right now. I am to escort you to him." The announcement would have taken her aback if she did not feel a little initial smugness.

"Is that so?"

 _Neither a ranger nor a commander and yet it seems this is a matter I will be brought to discuss, Ser Denys. I would feel privileged if I could get over the sense of feeling like live bait for our Commander's power plays once more -it did not work so well in my favour the last time he meant to make a show of me in his meeting._

She was of course met with all kinds of accusing eyes once she entered into the strangling room despite its cold. Ser Alliser looked on with the same disdain he usually did -it was truly growing very boring by now to Talla, whereas Ser Denys eyed her with caution and were it not for his long beard and old age -and probable incessant pride the men here tended to have, she would have perhaps liked to see a blush creep to him at the realisation that she was not only there but _called_ to it.

It all started very reluctantly and forced by Jon himself, and the men in the room were hesitant to reply in the hopes that they would not give too much away to her. It was just a myriad of meaningless words until she felt Jon's gaze steely directed to her.

"You've seen the shipment? You know what it is?" He asked her with a slight nod, and she realised that her voice was not as clear as she would have wanted when she answered.

"Aye. Dragonglass -if I heard correctly."

With Talla's basic knowledge of the situation established they all went on to speak of the elusive material that she had rarely ever heard anything about before. She inferred further into the conversation that Dragonglass was thus far the only known substance that could destroy an Other, confirming her suspicions around the matter.

Most of the talk revolved around the reforging and the most efficient weaponry that could be designed to defeat the true enemy whilst Talla sat silently with nothing to contribute, and she wondered once more why she had even been called to this meeting.

"We all agreed not to do anything until we heard from the Ki-" Ser Alliser tried to interject -for he had been against taking any action just yet.

"King Stannis is gone. To the Boltons, to the winter, to the wind, I don't know and we can't afford to care right now. We can't wait any longer, not while all of _them_ are still out there." Jon answered firmly with both his hands on the rectangular table.

"Then what do you suggest we do, Commander Snow?" His opponent asked tauntingly, and for some reason Talla recalled the taunting Whight in the Haunted Forest -watching, waiting.

 _"If a wight appears that always means there is an Other nearby."_

Her voice came out smaller than the rest, but its underlying femininity made it unmissable and too highly noted to be ignored when she finally spoke up.

"I have an idea."

* * *

 **Jon**

He wanted her under his watch at all times, and Jon tried very hard to convince himself that it was only because she was his responsibility. He swore to himself and silently to her that what happened last time, the remnants of the evidence still lingering on her cheek, would never happen again. And it was up to him that that promise held -even if she grew to appreciate his efforts less and less.

She didn't need him -needing him could hardly be said of any of the women Jon had ever been drawn to ever needed him. _You are not drawn to her. She is a woman and she is at the Wall. She is Sam's sister._ It was almost a mantra now that he had to repeat every time her image appeared in his mind -her outline a silhouette and her voice like the sweetest candlelight.

Her voice now, however, betrayed nothing while she and Ser Alliser remained the only ones speaking about the matter at hand. Speaking was too kind a description -swapping venom was more like it.

He hadn't really thought about it -what Talla said about the Dragonglass. Instead of forging weapons, she suggested that defences be made using it at the edge of the forest -which was the main point of entry and the widest weakness given how well an undead army can fit in it. He didn't know just yet how viable it would be, but it would save him a lot of men if they could stop at least part of the fight before it even gets to them.

Thorne, as expected, did not agree. And he, in his usual fashion, made his thoughts very well known amongst the now silent party. Silent save for Talla, of course.

"Do you see a room full of green boys before you, M'Lady? Unlike some of our other brothers we will _not_ cower down to a lady's wishes just because she thinks she's right. What do you know of battle? Of war?" He nearly winced at the mention of what he knew would bring upon Talla's wrath -it was a decidedly sore spot for her, he noticed. But still, Jon kept silent and so did everyone else as they awaited the lady's justifications to a known bully.

Talla stood against him, palms flat on the table as she leant in almost menacingly. She showed none of the hesitation that he was allowed to see when she faltered -no, with Alliser she was pure stone and she swung her tongue at him like she had meant it.

"I see none but an old, dour man. And to say i'm wrong about this, you'll be naught but an old and dour fool."

"I heed no warnings from you, _girl_." It was a statement of control -but Jon could hear the threat clear in his voice.

"That's lovely. I'm sure you have no qualms about being a _dead_ old fool, then?" Were it not for the sound of Ser Denys's heavy bark of laughter Jon would have taken more caution in the daggers the now white-faced Ser Alliser's eyes pointed unto Talla.

"You make a good point, my Lady!" He bellowed out still laughing. Smiles threatened to creep up on the faces of the rest of the men in attendance -and perhaps even the lady as well.

 _Now would be a good time to step in, I think. It has to be if Ser Alliser doesn't stop the red gathering in his face._

"I think we've heard enough for now. We'll discuss it further and come to decision later on tonight, in the meantime we all have duties to tend to -i'd say we should get on with it."

Everyone muttered out in relief at their given leave as they stood in a flurry to exit the room -Talla standing at the back in preparation to leave as well.

"Lady Talla, would you stay longer for a word?" He had no need for any words with her in truth, but he thought it best give Ser Alliser some time to cool down -he was a big boy, after all.

Talla stood back apprehensively as others passed her by, exchanging pleasant nods or icy daggers -even exchanging a curtsy and a bow from Ser Denys. _I knew he'd take to her -he was a lord that always liked his ladies._

"Enjoy her while you can." It was petty and bitter -classic Thorne, and they both heard it just before the door shut behind him -leaving them alone with the lone ranger's mutterings still echoing through the room.

"Does everyone think i'm your lover or is it just the bitter ones?" Talla asked him, taking him of guard for a moment until he noticed the annoyed look that laced through her brow -it must have been plenty insulting to a lady of her caliber to be thought of as bedding a Northern bastard. He dismissed the thought and the rising bitterness he himself developed when he responded to her obviously rhetorical question.

"You don't need to worry yourself with impossible rumors." He stacked some parchments splattering the table to busy his hands -and his thoughts to no avail.

" _They_ don't seem to find it too hard to believe." He didn't know why she was insisting. Did _she_ not find it hard to believe?

Jon was never a prideful man, but the joke in her voice was confusing but still obvious. _I could bed you if I wanted to. I could bed a thousand southron ladies if I wanted to._ He doubted its truth, but still he vainly thought it.

She did not push -or tease, the subject further, and so they spoke of their daily trivialities. There wasn't really much to talk about since they saw each other definitively at the start of every morning with a plan of what the day would hold -but Jon didn't want to tell Talla, who was decidedly more prideful than he, that he wanted to babysit her for just a little longer while Ser Alliser returned to his senses if he ever had any.

He held the door for her as they made to walk out and once they stood outside in the lingering cold he could smell her hair -which he noticed now her braid only loosely contained at this time of day. Jon had never been so affected by something so dismal, something so mundane in his day, that the shock of the sudden surge of her scent drove him to the familiar need of abruptly leaving her presence.

"Well...good day then, my Lady."

"Good...day?" He heard her utter out slowly as he walked briskly back to his chambers.

Jon stood idle for a while in the room where many a Lord Commander either made their order proud or shirked their duties -and he was hanging dangerously close to the line approaching him. But just as he thought he was rid of the distracting thoughts of the unlikely Huntress of the Reach his eyes landed on the riding cloak that he hadn't used since she last returned it to him.

It hung passively on a knob hammered into the wall and he approached it carefully like a man meeting his uncertainty -was it doom or victory? When he finally reached it the scent hit him immediately and he wondered how he could still smell it. It didn't smell like her hair smelled now, it smelt of _her_. Involuntarily, his hands grasped at the soft fur that once touched her and he pressed himself closer to the darkness, losing himself in the way she smelled and how the cloak must have draped over her neck, her back, her breast-

Jon pushed himself away with sudden awareness. With his hand anchoring him to the wall against him he lowered his head to breath -to think. _This has to stop._ He pushed himself away once more and grabbed the heavy cloak harshly, rolling it into a large clumpy ball that he placed under his elbow.

He stalked out wildly from his chambers -but with purpose this time. He was back in the yard with a thump to his step until he saw her again. With no warning, Jon walked over just as swiftly as he walked away from her earlier and before she could fully turn to address him he had lumped the offending piece of outerwear into her confused hands.

"I'm riding out to meet with the Wildlings." He announced evenly.

They had already discussed it that morning and many nights before -he was going to try and talk the Wildlings into a trade and was riding out to the Gift to negotiate some terms.

"Good luck then-" Still confused as to why he was telling her what she already knew and why he had all but attacked her with a _riding_ cloak she tried to answer him before he interrupted her -his purpose was shining.

"You're coming with me." It left him definitively -just the way he liked his orders.

"To meet the Wildlings? Why?" She was more alarmed than confused, and she hadn't left the Wall since arriving.

"Who better to convince them than someone fully convinced?" He let out a smirk almost begrudgingly, but he had to have some enjoyment with seeing the very well composed lady stagger in alarm.

"Put it on, we're going." He looked at the cloak as he said it and reminded himself to tell her to keep it after today.

They rode out not ten minutes later. They charged in silence, with Ghost on their tails much like the last time they rode together. From the corner of his eyes he could spy her wild curls fight their way out of her losing braid, and Jon wondered what Talla thought about so physically unwinding.

The wildlings themselves regarded them with caution when they made their arrival known to their new settlement -the fear of it being taken away still lingering with much openness. He nearly felt bad for Talla, who was on the major receiving end of their stares and uncaring whispers.

 _"Another witch?"_ He heard one of the children ask as their elder sister pushed him to silence.

He didn't want to leave her back in Castle Black alone, that was why he brought her with him, but now Jon was thinking that he hadn't thought it through. Neither the Wildlings nor Talla knew what to do with one another. But to his relief, the initial apprehensiveness lessened slightly as he met with their new proclaimed leader.

Talla herself steered clear of much of the negotiations, only giving Jon looks indicatory of when to push and when to relent -she rolled her eyes whenever he did not listen. But all in all, it went as well as could be expected on such notice, and they spent the rest of the time being showed around the settlement -which Jon was surprised had thrived in such a short time.

When asked if she was another witch by the brash children Talla bent down to their level and told them that she was a good witch, one that only turned orphans into beautiful birds and turned all the monsters into tadpoles -the wildling children then had to ask her what tadpoles were and she laughed loudly, falling into the snow behind her when she realised they'd never even seen a frog before.

 _Maybe bringing her did prove useful after all._

Some wildling men that Jon had met before nudged and winked at him as they all watched him watch her -apparently he was not doing a good enough job of hiding her appeal.

"Nothin' like th' warmth of a wom'n" They said with their tongue wagging knowingly.

 _Aye, a woman on all counts -but hardly even warm._

They rode back far differently than how they rode in, the freedom of relief and achievement lighting them from within -even Ghost had a lively wag to his tail and Talla finally undid the mess of her braid to let her hair dance free in the wind.

The sun broke through the dark of her hair as they rode with wild abandon, racing each other and throwing their heads back in uneven laughter.

By the time the gates to Castle Black lifted for them dusk had long settled in the sky's belly and night was rumbling deep. Jon selfishly helped Talla off of her horse -it was weakness, sheer folly, and yet he could not stop his hands moving up her waist. It was only a moment of closeness but he dared say that it was enough to sate him for tonight.

With the both of them deciding to head straight to the common hall Jon offered up his hand once more for Talla to take, and she rested her arm through his like a vein twisting tightly through shut walls. _She is twisting her way into me, as well._

The silence between them only lasted a few moments, for Talla, true as ever to her character, found something more to ask of Jon anew.

"Have you thought any more about it? About dinner?" The matter did not come to mind immediately to Jon, he was rather preoccupied counting the melting snowflakes on her now fully freed hair. But as soon as he inferred what of the thousands of matters she was speaking to him about he reminded himself that he was, still and forever, Commander Snow; to her and all the others.

"It wouldn't be proper of me, no matter how much I want to sometimes." That sentence seemed to apply to many things these days. Any knight of the watch could attest and relate to it.

Talla's steps grew heavy as she showingly rolled her eyes at him, turning to face him fully without letting go of his hand.

"Oh would you stop feeling sorry for yourself, Jon. We all have our doubts and demons.

"Would you have me run away from them then?" It was only she that could get a rise out of him like this, only she since the darkest darkness and the terrible flame that spoke to him.

But instead of taking offense to one of the only things Jon knew could truly and visibly affront her she lowered her gaze, much the same she did the first time they quarreled in the yard, and she spoke with an unparalleled clarity in her voice that Jon could almost believe that she'd done this before.

"Faith does not come easily, I know that. But even someone as arrogant and self-loathing as you should have some faith. If not in yourself then at least in those around you." She finished with a small smile, but Jon would see it fall tonight once more with his next words.

"That's hardly easy when they took turns stabbing me in the gut, now is it?"

"I wouldn't stab you." She said quick and soft before prompting herself straighter with a decided look and an assured nod of her chin, "I _won't_ stab you."

"You're too kind, my lady." It was a teasing smile that he gave her; a light smile that Ygritte would sometimes clap for when she bore witness to it. Talla would not clap, however, and she swatter the back of her palm on Jon's chest playfully at his insinuation.

"I just gave you my word!" Talla exclaimed incredulously -he was apparently supposed to take her seriously.

"Everyone gives their word, doesn't mean i'm obliged to believe it." They continued their walk to the common hall, side by side, man and woman, there was not much left before they could part.

"A man -or woman's word, isn't that what usually holds with you Starks?"

"I'm not a Stark, my Lady." He reminded her somberly.

"Stark or not, you're still Northern. Undeniably, might I add." _What's that supposed to mean?_

"My Lady?" He inquired hoping for a better explanation.

"The blood of the first men runs through you, the Children of the Forest walk with you in your dreams. Don't look at me like that!" She swatted him yet again while his smile broke free and they both giggled like children.

Apparently unaffected, Talla resumed her grand speech by placing a gentle hand on his crossed arm and resumed with a more delicate seriousness -he heard the change in her voice and it did things to him he didn't know could still be done. "The Old Gods, they listen to you, i'm sure they do. You are a hurricane and the earth combined, and denying that would be robbing a wolf of his claws. You wouldn't like that, would you Ghost?" She turned to coo at the direwolf, who squinted appreciatively up at her with his tongue out. _I deny myself nothing that my duty has already disallowed._

Their steps into the dinner hall were drowned out by the noise of talk and joviality surrounding them, and Talla went on with her bookish soliloquy about the North and its spirit.

"So whatever you promise me you must keep."

"I have yet to make any promises to you, my lady."

"I mean _in the case_ of such promises being made. I know you'd keep it."

"You seem so sure." He teased; his men were happy, the wildings were open to trade, dragonglass was here and ready to be used -they had a chance. If he could not smile now, Jon feared he would not smile again.

"Loyalty and strength, that's what the North is known for. Everyone knows that."

"What's the Reach known for, then?"

"Beauty," she said pointing in a showy manner at Satin who sat on with Grenn and Pyp tonight. "Effervescence," her hands flayed about graciously and her voice sounded higher -more honeyed and deep with luxury. "Chivalry." She ended it with a roll to her eyes, and Jon spotted the lovely pink that still dotted her nose from the remaining cold.

That night, he sat by her side in the dining hall while Ser Denys and Ullmer sat across from them -each of them a paradox to the other, and even the laughter that had been scarce etched into the mossy stones of their being found its way to their throats time and time again. Everything about her that night was free, her hair, her voice, her giggles, and she looked to him now the most beautiful -perhaps that is what she sought the most.

She was of the flowers, she belonged in a field of green with laurels of roses -Jon knew that. But he had to admit, for a child of the Reach, she wore winter well.

* * *

 **Talla**

Jon Snow had made it a habit of escorting Talla to her rooms himself, and she hoped that she would not get used to it so quickly - _this is not forever._

"You may say you are no Stark -but I am not so convinced. Your eyes are the same grey everyone speaks of, your hair dark, like mud." She had nothing to drink, but her words slipped through her and slurred past her lips regardless.

"Always scowling." Talla continued, and she faced him with a terrible scrunch to her nose that made him smile again; she liked seeing him smile. "Always on about that honour of yours, to your very detriment. You are all the Stark there is to know, Jon." _You are all the Stark there is to me, you are all the Stark I have ever known._

He didn't say anything after that. Talla wasn't sure whether he was contemplating whether to thank her or whether he just didn't know what to say to that. _Is that something he has no wish to hear? I would be mindful of it -but it carries no falsehood. He is Stark, to the bone, if I had ever known it._

She fell to a shallow sleep after immediately changing out of her shift -it had been a tiring day indeed. Her thoughts drifted to the rangers who spent moons beyond the wall; sleeping under the cover of complete darkness in a bed of snow -how tired were they? Her eyes were closing fully, and the blue began to kiss its way through her consciousness to invade her dreams once more until she heard undeniable screams of the brothers she had come to know echo their way through the winter wind.

Jolting awake, and with Ghost scratching at the door mercilessly, Talla paid no mind for the cold and grabbed her earlier riding cloak atop her as she ran towards the sound interrupting her dreams barefoot.

The yard was dotted by a few torches of fire being held out, shaking in the night's confusion, and many brothers stood around the railings looking far more troubled than she.

In the midst of the commotion stood Ser Wynton, shaking in nothing but his yellowing tunic. Spotting him and his state of undress Talla ran straight to him, feet pierced by the sharp sting of the snow -but she had no care.

"Ice. Ice. Ice. It's so cold." She grabbed his arm, but he was looking at a floating shadow that was not there.

"Falling. Falling down. Ice. It's so cold." Talla moved her other hand to grapple his moving arm but the sudden confinement caused him to suddenly push her away, and she fell hard into the wet snow as he continued to mutter. _Ice. Ice. Ice._

She didn't feel his footsteps approaching, but his voice was undeniable.

"Wynton!" He came soon after her fall, helping her up with one hand and leaning in to catch Ser Wynton's shaking form.

As Talla moved to wipe the snow away, she herself not standing that more steadily than the man with a failing mind, Jon moved closer to calm the man. And yet his calm never came; only the opposite. Everyone stood still, in horror and alarm as Ser Wynton's frail fingers wrapped around their Lord Commander's head and his vision sparkled the way it did when he would not go to sleep.

"Fire!" He sneered into Jon's face, and even the clouds of breath leaving the rest of them remained still to hear it.

Talla blinked, the momentary lapse of light bringing to her the image of her own blue fighting a harsh red, and when she opened her eyes Ser Wynton's frail and collapsed body lay in Jon's arms much like Heartsbane did in her hands -limp and pointing to the floor.

* * *

 **I feel like i've been a little neglectful, but I did it! I haven't checked for spelling/grammar mistakes since I am, once again, posting this in a bit of a hurry since I finished this in a bit of a daze -i'll go back and edit once I have the time (or take a nap).**

 **Please, please review and tell me what you think!**


	11. A Very Nice Man

**A/N:** **I can't believe we're finally here! This is one of those chapters that I was planning from the get go and it feels like it's taken me forever to get there -so yay me!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Lord Commander Snow,_

 _Within the next moon a retinue of my men will arrive at Castle Black bearing fifty recruits for your order and a year's worth of stocks and supplies. With their arrival, you will hand over my daughter into their care and they will take her where she is due south to Highgarden to marry Lord Willas Tyrell and do her duty to her house._

 _As mentioned in my previous raven, the condition in which my daughter is returned is to be the same as when she came to you. I have extended a consolatory hand to you, Lord Commander, and come with the offer of men and supplies that will serve you well in the long winter. But one scratch, bruise, unwonted mark or other stamps of significance or injury on Lady Talla will earn the Watch nothing but the wrath of the Reach upon you._

 _My daughter is to marry the heir to Highgarden, and I will see her return with her honour still, as anything less would be ill suited for the upcoming Warden of the South._

 _Furthermore, I request to know the current whereabouts of my son, if he has not by now deserted like the craven I knew him to be._

 _Randyll Tarly._

* * *

 **Jon**

The crisp parchment rolled between Jon's fingertips after he read it -and perhaps reread it exceeding ten more times.

Was he expected to tell Talla himself? Or would he just keep it from her until the day of reckoning came upon them all? He might as well have done so, wasn't that what he did in the first place when he wrote that letter with Sam by his side the first time? Wasn't that what he did when he got her father's first letter asking him to house his daughter like she was a horse and ensure her maidenhood stayed in tact?

She wasn't the Talla she was to him now when he wrote that letter. Were it not for his honour and the lingering sound of his father's voice even though it no longer attached itself to the grey eyes he wished he could proudly call his own Jon would probably wish he could take it all back. It was the right thing to do, even if he wanted to be anything but right for her. He would be anything but right if it meant that maybe, Talla could belong there.

 _Women don't belong at the Wall. Talla doesn't belong at the Wall._ Jon didn't know his new self very well, but he knew he'd still never assume to condemn someone's existence to the Wall just because it was where _he_ belonged.

He leaned back in his chair and weaved those slightly inked fingers through the muss of dark hair on his head as he faced the ceiling. _Would she kick and scream and fight? Would she just run away? Was Randyll Tarly the demon she keeps herself from facing? We'd both be hypocrites if I let her shirk this, we both know it._ This day was long coming, surely, she must have known that with each passing day. You couldn't forget something that nagged on you like that, no one could.

But Jon had. He'd forgotten what his vows meant, what his _brothers_ meant. He kept forgetting that he was the Lord Commander and not the Jon that left as a whisper from her lips when he walked her to her rooms at night. And sometimes, when he joined Talla to watch over Ser Wynton, who was still fading in and out of consciousness, or when they were all sat together in the common hall laughing, Jon could easily forget that she was not his partner, his pretty Southron lady that had come to join him in his castle and care for all his brothers.

It was a childish thought, meant only for little girls who had yet to be crushed and disappointed by the world. _Even Sansa as I remember her would probably laugh at how silly I am._

He had time to decide how he'd tell her, though, by the look of daylight that still dully shone from the peak of his window. Talla was with the men in the haunted forest directing them as they set up the defences they forged out of the dragon glass. They weren't wasting every last ounce on it, but her plan held weight and it bought them time -they needed that more than anything. _Time. Perhaps even a miracle from the Gods. Dragons, dragons would be nice too._

What could he say to her, even? Would he just hand her the letter to see for herself?

Already he saw the anger collect in her wide eyes and the tears that she won't allow to spill.

 _What of Sam?_ She'll ask, and he would give her the only reassurance he could with the whole ordeal -he'll protect Sam, regardless of what or why Lord Tarly wants with him.

But how far could he protect him if he was not under his close watch? If he said he was here at Castle Black, Jon could only assume Lord Tarly might march himself up with his retinue to face his craven son himself if there was a possibility he found out that he had any hand in Talla's disappearance. If he lied and said that Sam had deserted, would Randyll Tarly ever stop searching for him himself? Jon didn't know Randyll Tarly enough to know, but he knew that his daughter was to be returned to him -it was the right, the only thing to do. By him, by Lord Tarly, by his brothers, and probably by Talla of all people.

So why did the idea of not seeing the dark twists of her long braid around Castle Black suddenly feel so wrong to him?

It was in fact, not the best start to the day.

* * *

 **Talla**

The eerie forest disappeared behind Talla as she rode back to Castle Black with Albett and Ghost by her side.

They were getting much done, and many brothers still lingered behind to finish after her instruction. It was good work, _important_ work, and filled Talla with unparalleled pride that it was her idea that was being put to such importance. That wasn't to say everyone liked it, of course. Even if it proved useful Talla doubted the usual dour suspects would ever relent in their disrespect for the course of action since it was her that stood behind it, and no one could doing the actual physical work could say they enjoyed being out in the colder cold where the last Whight was spotted, but the people who thought it was necessary outranked and outnumbered those that thought it was a foolish girl's fantasy.

It was the second day of work, but still the defences were already starting to take form, coming together in a semi circle rather than a wall just behind the Godswood that protruded in spikes of obsidian with a heady wooden base. As much as Talla would have liked to see it grow even further on in the day she would admit to only herself that the forest still brought her unease after the last time she was there.

The last time she was there she was alone with the Lord Commander, save for Ghost of course, and they stood in front of a heart tree just the two of them, contemplating the state of it and probably one another. Their only interruption came from a sight that still sent shivers through Talla's soul at night. It still shook through her toes, and the ice she saw in the dead man's eyes reminded her of the blue she kept seeing in her dreams -the shards of glass a creature would open its mouth to and she would prick her finger on. The only way the creature would leave her now was if she thought of its destruction, and talk of destruction was now more than abundant now that they had something to fight with.

She rode back to Castle Black wishing to shed off the feel and smell of the forest of death and instead hold herself to the small pleasures she found in being lady to a home of hardened men. But wherever things got better they also got worse somewhere else, and that somewhere to Talla was Ser Wynton's failing mind.

The cold was his attacker, or maybe his champion, she couldn't tell. All she saw was his weak body, a vast contradiction to his never ending tales of servitude and glory. It was, Talla thought to herself, maybe the only thing that everyone in Castle Black could agree on -a loss for the Watch to bear. She stayed with him the most now that the glasshouse was up around the vegetable garden and it needed less tending to that Albett could not already handle. She would sit by his bedside unaware of the fire that no one allow to die out, and the silence would overcome her day until it was high time for dinner.

Even now, as the gates lifted for her she thought of his mumblings. _Ice. Ice. Ice._

 _Is the cold his enemy or his champion?_ She would not bet on knowing now or any time soon. She didn't have to be a Maester to know that the slumber he'd fallen into was one too deep for a man his age to easily wake from.

Talla found one of the younger squire's waiting in the tunnel anxiously once her arrival had been secured and the gates closed behind them. She unmounted her horse with her eyes still trained on the boy, and she slowly worked at removing the heavy scarf she had around her hair as she stalked right to him.

"A letter for you, M'Lady." He addressed her before she could address him.

Confusion, curiosity and then fear shuddered through her all in quick succession at the offending piece of rolled parchment that lay in the boy's hands.

"From King's Landing." He added when he saw she had still not answered him.

His second announcement pushed her to gulp down and face the bard. She took the letter from his hands and tore through the seal -she didn't need to look at to know who it was from. _I daresay I have no friends in King's Landing._

* * *

 _To my Daughter,_

 _Whatever it is your ladyship has sought fit to do at the damned Wall you may now count it finished. I have sent my retinue and guards to fetch you from this madness, and Ser Aiden, their commander, will be there in less than a moon's turn by the time you get this letter_ _with men and supplies for the Watch_ _._

 _Gods know, cowardice will never outrun duty -not by any daughter of mine of all people._ _You will return with my men without a word of complaint. You will go back to the Reach, where you belong. You will marry a man of noble birth and serve him in all the ways a wife is bound to serve her husband. You will bear him sons, heirs. You will forget that you were ever so foolish. And you will never shirk your duty again until your soul has died and your name can no longer be Tarly._

 _I have arranged, after all this time and careful planning, for you to marry Lord Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden. The Tarly's have always served the Wardens of the South well, and so I have managed to offer them a bride that will serve them just as loyally as I have. Loyalty and obedience is just what I expect from you, and anything less I can assure you will not be met with kindly by neither me or the people now included in your designs._

 _Be sure that this is no letter of any beseeching nature -this is a clear order. Pack whatever drabs you have with you up there, return south with my host of men and forget that you had ever engaged in this madness -maybe then I will find myself forgetful that you have attempted to shame me so. You'd best be thankful that I was able to contain it, else you'd have besmirched not only my name -which i'm sure means far too little to you judging your actions, but also that of your darling brother Dickon's. There is already enough being said about him in court due to the circumstances of his wedding, would you have anyone hold his name against him like it was not the finest house the Reach could boast? I thought I had raised you better. I thought I had raised you outside of the realms of these impossible adventures or misconceptions that you could get what you so chose in life -but I was wrong about you. And if i've learned anything from that coward of a boy you once called brother it's that there's little to be done to change such weak natures. Alas, I don't need to change you anymore. Wives do not require for stronger natures -your duty asks for silence and fertility, and perhaps even the Mother's Mercy when your time comes to face a true woman's battle._

 _Your eldest brother will answer for himself when I see fit to find him, and you shall speak neither of him or any of this for even a moment when you return. And I will see you return, with your honour, still. Roses can not be fooled into breeding with weeds._

 _Your Father,_

 _Lord Randyll Tarly._

* * *

Talla set down the letter with a small shake to her wrists, and without a mirror she could tell that all the colour had probably drained from her face by now.

All was still, just as it was when Ser Wynton had fallen to the forces that fought over his mind. Talla's demons had caught up. She knew this day would come -she was surprised she had simply not just been met by her father's wrath upon the Wall and his solemn and steady march to the gates to claim her back himself. But no, she should have known better -Randyll Tarly is far too efficient and elegant a lord to cause such scenes and disgrace himself further than his daughter had. Randyll Tarly, works quick, too, for little more than a year ago she seemed to not be good enough for a third Tyrell son, and now she was to marry their prized heir.

Marrying Loras or marrying Willas -did it matter? Did it make a difference? How could it, when she knew it was not what she wanted? No, Talla of House Tarly wanted none more than to shut herself behind these gates and tend to men that would no longer treat her like she was made of porcelain; she wanted not hide behind anyone anymore -to wield her own sword in defiance and fight back instead of nodding like the good girl she had always been. But she would nod now, whenever it was her father's host would arrive, and she knew there was nowhere else to run -not unless she wanted to take her chances in the Land of Always Winter.

She hadn't even noticed that she was still frozen to the same place she stood as she read the letter, even though she now dangled it lifelessly through her fingers. There was nothing that could have inspired or animated her enough to move -to do _something_ , not when she felt all she had done -all the _good, important work_ she had done fall to pieces and stumble to the realisation that she perhaps truly was as useless as Ser Alliser would surely stand to remind her. It was not until she heard heavy, regretful footsteps come closer that she had enough sense to lift her gaze from the deep, mesmerizing snow.

It was Jon Snow in all his glorious darkness and pained eyes overcome with suspicion that stepped closer with caution, her face still surely looking blank and undone. He eyed the letter with a raised brow, and Talla finally felt herself snap back and find her voice again.

 _Will he be glad to see me go? I am, after all, more trouble than I was ever worth. What am I worth to him, even?_

Her eyes fell once more to the snow as he came closer, and before she felt the hand that she knew he was going to press on her elbow she forcefully pushed the words out of her mouth.

"I...I've just received word from my father that i'm to return south. He'll...he's sending you men and supplies, in gratitude for your hospitality of me." _In exchange for his cattle. I am just a commodity. You were right about Southerners, Jon, you were always right._

"South...to Horn Hill?" He asked unsure, but there was something else hidden in his voice that Talla couldn't identify - _could it be regret? Sadness at my disposal? Do not be foolish. You have not been foolish for so long._

Her eyes fluttered to and from him, suddenly feeling tight, and she nearly felt the bitterness of her upcoming words to be too much to slide across her tongue.

"No, I... I'm being sent to Highgarden, you see, to marry." _I am no different than anyone else. Try as I might, I will always meet the same fate._

"I see." He was short with her, standing awkwardly close, but the distance in his words were an unwelcome chill to Talla -one that she was unfamiliar with despite their previous less than agreeable encounters.

"Willas Tyrell." Talla blurted out without thinking, and their eyes finally met. She had wanted to say _something_ , something that would stop him looking at her like she was as pitiful as she felt. And it worked -for now his eyes held the familiar glimmer of betrayal.

Maybe it was only Talla's imagination -her paranoia and over thinking that never ceased to leave her mind at rest, but she felt like she could almost hear him think what she already thought of herself with this letter. _You're just the same as everyone. You'll always be a Lady of the South._

"Oh." He nodded standing very still.

"He's...i've met him before. When I went to Highgarden. He's... he's a very nice man." It was more of a reassurance to herself than to him -she could almost scoff at the implication that Jon Snow would care enough about her to worry for her future. He had not worried this entire time -they lived in the dreaded and begrudging present of their harsh reality in their time at the Wall. There was no past, no future, only us or _them_.

"I suppose then you _are_ pretty enough to be Lady of something after all."

* * *

 **Jon**

"I suppose then you _are_ pretty enough to be Lady of something after all." He hadn't meant it to leave him so bitterly, but he had no control over neither his laughter nor his spitefulness with Talla.

He wasn't met with her ice, not the tenacity he would expect from her, but with only a soft muttering of her leave and once again he was left with only the smell of her hair that not even the unforgiving cold could erase.

He knew not where she fled to this time -her room, the kitchens, the laundry room, he resigned to his own study where the relief of not having to tell her himself sat with the terrible guilt of lying to her by his omission. He was never a good liar -but maybe he was a better one than Sam and Talla were.

Being untrue to a woman he owed absolutely nothing to was the right thing to do -but he had a hard time convincing himself that there was little to care for in Talla now that we was faced with her departure. _Perhaps it would do me good to admit to myself that I like her, perhaps that will make it easier to put her behind me._

 _Stop this nonsense._

She was a Lady -to be Lady of Highgarden in the not too distant future, and he was Lord Commander of an order that would neither befit her station nor would it allow for his wife to be anything but his duty to his brothers. Everything about her, about _this_ , was madness -but wasn't that the crazy fire that had always drawn Jon in? Could he still deny that through all the forgotten faces that might come to him after the fire annihilated his dreams it was only Talla's visage that remained, strong and clear, in a mist of red flame -her tender sighs stoking the fire?

Light turned to dark and Jon still remained cursing the day he had ever met Talla Tarly.

By the time he made it to the common hall the bustle he was usually met with every night was dulled down to silent murmurs and he walked in to find Talla deep into her cups -something she made a point of ever indulging in. _No need to dull my wits around you lot,_ she'd say. It seemed now that the dulling of her wits was precisely what she sought out as she lumped carelessly over the table, curling her arm around her goblet protectively.

As he approached her slowly, Jon noticed Ben and Lew eye her cautiously, sitting a table away from her. Their eyes feathered back to Jon's, indicating to him that she had been here a _while_ , and he was not the only one with cause to worry. She took a large gulp just as he reached her,

"Have you not had enough?" She didn't even look up at him as she took another lasting gulp in defiance, emptying her cup in the process and moving to refill it to the brim.

"Why is Talla sad?" Asked Owen from behind him, who was now standing up with eyes in a childish curiosity. He was lucky not to know true misery as well as Jon had.

"I'm not sad! This is a celebratory toast!" Her wine spilled out of her goblet as she swished it around ungraciously, "Why is no one else raising their glass to me?"

"A watering inn would be more suited to the drunk lady's tastes, I imagine." Sounded from the other end of the hall, undeniably from Ser Alliser -Jon need not even look back to recognise the streaming bitterness that left him and the gladness that it now left him with probably just cause.

"Oh hush, you sour old man." She turned her head to the side to reply, but quickly moved back to mull over her goblet and etch burning holes into the table with her eyes.

"What did you just say to me, _girl_?" True to Thorne, no concessions would be made.

"Enough. Lady Talla, i'll escort you back to back to your chambers now." He ordered to the both of them, but kept his eyes trained on Talla -perhaps for the first time that day since the letters.

"Oh why must you always be so sullen? My days are numbered here anyway, you will be rid of me soon!" She continued to keep her head down as she said it, and she sunk deeper despite the forced mirth in her voice.

He approached her even closer, his knee brushing the edge of her dress, and his looming shadow finally brought her head up to face him.

"Talla." He repeated, half a warning, half a plead. _For her own sake._

Giving him a brief eye roll, she pushed her bench back harshly as she stood suddenly. The effects of the mead took an immediate toll on her sudden movement, and she swayed slightly, comically lessening her resolve in the process, and Jon moved quickly to hold her steady. But once she was more or less balanced on her own two feet Talla roughly pulled her arms away from his grasp and stalked off to exit the hall, and Jon followed behind her in digression.

"Good night, boys!" She waved without turning around, and the returning bid good night was not as lively as it was every night when she left the hall.

They walked in silence, no pleasant conversation or plans of what the next morning would bring them to fill the empty space that lingered at their separation. She continued on briskly despite her inebriated state, and Jon only followed with the unsaid promise that he'd catch her should she stumble on her way up any stairs.

The deeper they got into the King's Tower the quieter everything around them got, and as they walked through the halls he could feel her breath hitch in the now contained air. _Is there a demon you fear facing in your own room, my lady?_

He was going to ask her what troubled her so, he decided. _The minute we get to her door, i'll ask and she'll probably lie. But still, i'll ask. I must._

Except Jon never got to, and it was not due to his dying nerve. For the moment Talla's door was in plain view the lady of the hour turned sharply in his direction. They bumped into one another harshly as Jon had no time to stop in his own tracks trying to keep up with her thinking she'd try to shut the door in his face before he could sufficiently speak to her, and their skirmish of battling elbows and awkwardly shifting feet came to a sudden halt when Talla's weight shifted upon him and her lips suddenly landed on his.

It was clumsy, and over far too soon after it occurred, but it was undeniably a kiss. Jon had had enough of them to know what they were and what they usually meant. Although, looking at the red of Talla's cheeks as she pulled away with wide eyes, there was still room to doubt what exactly that had meant to either of them.

"What are you doing?" He questioned her in a harsh whisper, all of the thoughts he had of her at night dissipating into the dark wind as he nearly gawked at the extent of her recklessness.

"I've never done that before, but I believe they call it a kiss where i'm from." It was a joke, but no smile or even sly smirk graced her face. If anything, her brown eyes faded into a dull pain and she almost made to walk away before deciding she might as well continue down the path she had seemingly chosen for herself.

"Will you kiss me, now?" Her unsure voice came out shaky, and the eyes that moments ago held some osrt of determination fell to the floor the same way they did earlier that day.

"No, Talla." _Not "I can't". Not "I really wanted to, but I can't. I could never". Don't add, don't embellish, don't encourage._

"I want you to kiss me because I want to know what it's like, at least once, to be kissed by someone that I like." _I want to kiss you, too. Maybe if I was in Winterfell -with Robb its Lord and your father visiting, maybe i'd have the gall to steal a kiss from you in the Godswood if you so wished it._ What was Jon even thinking? _I would never have the gall._ And it showed now when his eyes moved away from her and he met her with his silence.

"If you truly have never in the time that you have known me wished to kiss me, then leave. But if you've thought about it, even once, please do." She sounded resigned, tired, exhausted from all that the day had put her through, and he finally looked up at her. He moved his hands to her elbow, the same spot he knew was growing to give her comfort, and this time she let him.

"I would like to see you go with your honour, still." She snorted at that.

"You would like to see me go, generally." She rolled her eyes away and smiled insincerely, but he still continued.

"You've been an asset to us at the Wall," he squeezed her shoulder, "the Watch thanks you for your service. I'll always be in your debt" And he meant it, more than he meant anything else he thought he'd been sincere to her about.

"I don't think i'll ever be able to say this again, but I think I found more joy cooking meals and washing shit stained clothes than I ever had in my own home." She answered in short breaths, and they stood far too dangerously close for Jon to be at ease with what he would or would not do should her lips attack his again. But she didn't try anything again, she merely fidgeted in her place as Jon's hand held her steady.

He smiled.

"You know you can't stay." It was too sorrowful a thing for him to say with a rare smile.

"I know." He whispered barely loud enough for him to hear, and he finally let go of her arm gently knowing that that admission was as much for him as it was for her at this point.

But still, he did not move as she turned to her door -and his unmoving presence stopped her in her tracks to look back at him with her unsure and frighteningly sober gaze.

 _If this is the end, I will treat it as such. I will give you what you want._

He stepped forward, causing Talla to step softly with her back to the door, and he hovered over her dearly as their breaths mingled in a concoction of mead and confusion.

He kissed her, differently than she had. Her lips were still clumsy, but her hands -those dainty fingers, moved up to his neck and gripped him closer and Jon could finally feel what he had missed all this time -the single most intoxicating part of all his endeavours. The want of being wanted.

His mouth moved slowly against her, biding his patience for her to acclimate to the foreign sensation -the unthinkable thought, that someone might want you just as much as you want them. It was new, even to him.

Her lips responded to him hesitatntly, but her passions were unmistakable. Even as she unsurely accepted his tongue, her hands moved desperately in his hair and Jon for the first time didn't doubt that whatever she felt must have matched him. He pressed her harder onto the door, suffocating her senses with nothing but him. _Tonight, I will haunt you just as you have haunted me._ He gropes her waist gently as she learns to kiss him back. He swims deeper in all the things he swore were forbidden to him whenever she crosses his mind. He thinks to himself that he's teaching her how it's done - _this is how a man kisses his woman, Talla_. _I'll be your man for now._ _You won't have to remember this when you wake, you can pretend it was a dream._

He thinks it even as he walks away from her and the confused look on her face brings a smile to his face -her stained lips a reminder that it _wasn't_ a dream.

* * *

 **Talla**

When she wakes it is with a ringing to her head, and at first she blinks as the recollections of the previous night do not immediately jolt through her.

It is only when she sits up and spies Ghost waiting for her anxiously that she remembers the terrible kiss his master placed on her lips and how she swam in his deep pools of darkness while he showed her a world she had not known before.

Talla leaned back in her bed with a smile and for the first time in a long time she thought herself worthy of a late morning -the effects of the alcohol still wrung true through her head even as more pleasurable thoughts

It wasn't enough to make her forget what was coming, but it was _something._ One small victory was enough for now -she had thawed the Northernmen and he had seen her fit for his momentary affections.

The later she lay in her bed the more everything came back to her -her cumbersome performance at dinner, the worried looks, his disappointed eyes and their confession of a conversation.

 _"You've been an asset to us at the Wall"_ She thought about it now even as she lay still. _Talla of the Wall._

Her mind wandered further into their conversation and rewinded to the part where she had scoffed at him. _You'd like to see me go, generally._

 _"I'd like to see you go with your honour, still." You presume far too much, Commander Snow._

And suddenly it all came crashing down on her like an avalanche, even harder than it had when her eyes swept over her father's dooming letter. Every word from that letter was etched into her mind, sworn to her memory - _I will see you return, with your honour, still._

 _It's a coincidence. It had to be._

All signs of her previous drunkenness fell away as she jolted up in bed once more, Ghost coming to attention in the next second.

 _Had he...? It's coincidence. It has to be._

* * *

 *****SPOILER ALERT*****

 **How about that last GOT episode you guys? Tbh I felt pretty selfish that he was brought back by Melisandre because it was more accurate to my fic hehe. We have yet to see Sam or his family on the show, though! So we have another week for my headcanons not to be crushed, let's savour it!**

 **Tell me what you think (of both the show and the fic) and review, review, review!**


	12. A Worthy Cause

**A/N: Hey there! So sorry for the long wait...but you know how life is. **

**Quick recap -I don't think it's the idea that Talla's father would send a letter to Jon and Jon would keep it from her that gets to Talla but it's the idea that they've corresponded exactly about her "honour" and its retention. Hope that clears things up for you. :)**

 **Also, let me add...I LOVE Willas Tyrell. He's my sweet, sweet baby banana and yes I just wanted to include him in some way because there just isn't enough of Willas (in ASOIAF, AT ALL ON GOT, or on fanfiction).**

 **Leggomymeggo92: Thank you for your kind words -I can assure you (as you can tell from this update) that I haven't given up on this. But it's a little harder to get inspired to write when i'm depressed. Ironically, this saved me from that, so I hope you like it!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Talla**

The wind grew bold with each step Talla took, blindly feeling her way up the stairs, through the halls, and into a study she knew was empty at this time of day. There was no one to guard it -and she couldn't tell whether she was disappointed by that or not; whether she was disappointed that nothing stood between her and a possible sting of betrayal.

With a bump of her shoulder, the door to the Lord Commander's study burst open into the dank, morning air that seemed to long for its routine presence and her eyes immediately darted to the one place she had any mind to search. Her fingers fumbled across the stiff oak, _such a nosy girl, you are!_ She could hear her Septa scold her -but she didn't care, _your honour, your honour, your honour,_ it played in her head like a never ending nightsong and would not come to any sort of stop until her palms landed on the scroll written on by the more acquainted hand and stamped by her own seal.

"No, it can't be." She heard herself say while she read it from within -while she discovered just how much it _could_ be.

 _"...you will hand over my daughter into their care and they will take her where she is due south to Highgarden to marry Lord Willas Tyrell..."_

 _"...As mentioned in my previous raven, the condition in which my daughter is returned is to be the same as when she came to you..."_

 _"...My daughter is to marry the heir to Highgarden, and I will see her return with her honour still, as anything less would be ill suited for the upcoming Warden of the South..."_

 _Previous letter? There's another one? How long has this correspondence been occurring without my knowledge?_

 _He knew. He must have always known what would happen. He had known all along that he was coming for me, that i'd have to marry Lord Willas, and he had the audacity to act surprised and then kiss me like he hadn't just written me off to be claimed._

It was almost sun set now, she knew it by the last rays of the sun kissing the transparent parchment in her hands. She wished that somehow, even this far North, those weak rays could burn the parchment lying limp in her hands and it would turn to ash. She wouldn't have to feel a lie on her breath as she recalled all those times Jon Snow had touched her elbow and eased her mind -he was not easing her mind, only placating her until the cavalry arrived to cart her off to a man she had not chosen. Perhaps the men she did not choose would serve her better than the one man she did choose.

He would be back in his study soon, _he always returned here before dinner_ , and Talla had to decide whether she'd keep playing the fool in the game he had created. Her legs stood as straight as two swords planted into the floor, even when she heard his footsteps coming closer, she could not move. Not her feet, not her hands, not the poison inching its way up her throat.

The door opened, and through it came the same mass of dark hair she had grown accustomed to being excited to see. There was a shadow of a smile on his face, only the most subtle of curves margined on his lips -one of the rarest sights on the Wall. But it fell the moment his eyes locked on her standing behind his desk now fiercely clutching what lay between her palm and fingers.

"Talla?" It was supposed to be a question, but they both knew what it was. They both knew what they had done.

"He wrote to you. You knew..." She breathed out breaking the icy silence, unsheathing the sword waiting to come out and fight.

"Are you surprised?" He asked as he met her eyes, turning her blood redder and thicker than it ever had been before. _You dare meet my gaze? You dare look upon me?_

"You lied to me." Talla ground through her teeth. He had done so much more -he had protected her, cared for her, counselled her, let her counsel him in return and kissed her under the cover of a dark night and mossy hall. Worst of all, he had pretended to do all those things.

"I didn't-" His lips slipped over each other -justifying something Talla had already condemned as betrayal was hardly a worthy cause.

"You pretended _not_ to know! That's the same as lying."

They hovered a moment in silence like a predator watching its prey -though in this case Talla was unsure who was who. His silence taunted her, once again it made her the fiery maid who knew too little to keep her wits about her -it made her the headless child running about The Wall playing at a grown up's game. It laughed at her louder now, _it was all a lie,_ she thought to herself, ' _Are you surprised?'_ she heard his voice echo to her thoughts like it had just a moment ago. Perhaps that is what he truly wished to say.

She was so tired. She had gone miles and miles, ridden through a number of Kingdoms thinking she had somehow escaped being a nameless woman destined to whatever her father sought to gain the most power from. And yet here she was once more, futile. Powerless. Voiceless.

 _If you prefer your women invisible, I will make myself so._

"I take your leave, Lord Commander." His face was suddenly full of unsworn malice to her, she did not know who it claimed its allegiance to anymore.

"Talla." He reached over to that very same patch of cloth he held on to whether she wanted it or not. But his fingers never reached the tip of her elbow before her body leapt away like he was a plague.

"Don't touch me!" _Bastard,_ she nearly added, but it seemed she would not need to -he looked as if he heard it loud and clear.

"What did you expect me to do? Your father has The Reach behind him!" He thundered on closer to her -almost as close as he had come the night before. But then again, they were both different people the night before.

"You always knew that you had to go back at some point." He said softer, hoping to gain some neutrality from her. It was the worst kind of condescension Talla could think to be given in that moment.

"You baited me!" Perhaps he hadn't meant to -but that did not change anything. His complacency, the despondent and resigned after thought given to choices that would prove detrimental to the course of her life, did not do more to prove any loyalty he may have had to her character or empathy to her autonomy than had he thrown her in with the rest of the livestock to begin with.

"And what would you have done had I told you? Run away? Just as you always do?"

"I would have made a _decision_! A _choice_! _My_ choice!"

"It won't serve you to think like that...not anymore." He nearly sneered back. _There it was again,_ she thought as he breathed down on her, _the seasoned warrior teaching the foolish little girl what she'll never know of the world._

"I was right the first time. You're not the man my brother said you were." She spat the words back, her cutting tongue was the only thing left to her that she could use in her defence. She had lost and he had taken more, all she had were useless little tools that he would probably never think twice about whilst she found no sleep.

"Who is it that you think helped me write the first letter to your father in the first place?!"

In her endeavours to wound him or his pride she had unwittingly done so to herself. Pushing him and pushing him, he had finally cracked and spilled what she did not care was a truth or a lie made up in his frustration. The idea of Sam, sweet and gentle Samwell, turning his own back on her in more ways than one was enough to have her stunned at why she had ever stepped into this world. Everyone in it seemed to be on guard with their knives, drawing blood before one even knew he was cut.

 _I left my home for this._ Surely, it was not the happiest of places. But it was warmer -and she had her mother. _Mother, who I so readily ran away from without even a word of good bye._ Her mother, who combed and braided Talla's hair herself. Her mother, who was kind and amiable and did not deserve to be hurt by Talla that way. _I'll go back and i'll beg. Not to Father, not to Willas Tyrell, i'll beg for mother to forgive me. I can not wait to leave this wretched place to find the peace of forgiveness._

Her chin lifted as she decided, and though her eyes remained steady she could hardly see anything in the blur that her sudden disassociation left her in.

"I'll keep Ghost tonight. I have a sudden need for company that won't treat me like a pawn."

The walk back to her chamber, though she knew the way well and her feet carried her betraying nothing, was blurry as well. But her dreams -her dreams that night were of the most vivid distortions. A field of ice, stretching for miles and miles so it was all the eyes could see, with savages and men in black fighting amongst one another in the midst of it while an army of dead men waited across an invisible border -waiting.

* * *

 **Jon**

That day, which seemed the longest Jon had had in a while, ended with the men's curiosity at Talla's upfront coldness and disappearance from the hall that night. And unfortunately for not only him, the next day began and ended that way as well. And so did the one after it.

Even as Jon hoped that it would somehow resolve itself, he was disappointed once more to find the effects of not only Talla's withdrawal on them but her unspoken malice towards him as well. Inexplicably, the men found less and less joy in his orders, and Jon being, being the understandably paranoid man that he was, found in a number of their icy responses a soft defense for the lady's unsaid offense. He wondered to himself at times when it was easier to admit that he cared for her whether she knew of the incomprehensible power she had over these men -what blind loyalty she had begun to inspire, and what she'd do with it if she found out. He didn't suppose that it mattered much anymore, really, they were weeks away from her return. _Perhaps she will have a powerful sway over her husband._ Jon didn't want to admit that it tasted like ash in his mouth to even think it. To think of _her_...wrapped in the arms of another man, blinking up with those wide eyes, asking for something that he would not relent to another. He wondered, now, whether she'd find other methods of convincing someone to bend when they would not budge...

Almost violently, he shook his head at the thought. _The girl has made a fool out of me._

It was easier to think of her as _the girl,_ faceless and empty, just as she suspected herself to be perceived. It was easier to be angry and irked when she was _the girl_ and not Talla -which so easily rolled off his tongue whenever he said it.

It was so tempting to say it, for some reason the name begged to roll off his tongue even at the most inopportune of moments. The only time they would willingly share one another's presence was under the somber haze of watching over Ser Wynton in his blank unconsciousness, and even then they would sit on opposite ends of the room without a word.

It irked him so to feel any sort of regret at an action he was still convinced was the right thing to do. He didn't know her -he didn't care then, he had to do what was best for him and his men. And no matter how he cared for her or how her lips felt against his, it would still not change that to keep her there willingly put him and his men at the risk of coming to blows with the army her father would muster -and they both knew that they had greater things to worry about than that.

Jon was stubborn -as was she, but as he felt himself grow useless without the unencumbered support of his men; he only saw failure where he saw her succeed. From sun rise till sun down she was at the woods -directing, helping, leading, and when she was not there she was watching her greenhouse thrive. To him it seemed even worse that there was no steady smirk of hers to acknowledge his pettiness -there was only him. Him and his stupid, stupid, obsession with a woman incapable of ever being his.

Not even in his sleep did he venture to her, not even through Ghost did he want to bring her any comfort. The time for comfort had long since passed, and Jon would not acknowledge her futile fight in the face of his reality. So as the last spires of the hearth smoked up and out, Jon led himself to his simplest -his _only,_ form of peace, sleep.

He had forgotten the flutter of his lids within a moment, and still smelling the freshly blown out fire he felt the snow surround him in a wind so harsh that it felt like it wished to return the snow back to where it had fallen from.

Jon stood in the Haunted Forest again, his feet planted firmly before the weirwood of the Heart Tree, and when he looked up to the shadow facing him he found Talla there, looking up with the same wonder he had found in her the first time they rode there together. Her skin looked drained against the black of his colours -she wore his cloak high on her shoulders, and beneath the surface he could see the veins where her blood ran thick. Looking down, he found their hands locked together -his bare and hers in thick leather gloves, and his heart thumped harder as he realised just how they were standing -just _where_ they were standing. Her visage that had worn a scowl so recently now softened with a small smile of hers -and though what stood before him looked exactly like her it also seemed so...different. _She would never surrender_.

But despite himself he moved his hand to her cold cheek, and even as she moulded herself into his one hand he could feel the crystal-cold touch.

"Will you kiss me, now?" She asked, this time with far less doubt that he would refuse her, and despite his own self Jon found himself leaning in to capture the soft poison he knew her lips to be.

Before he could reach her, he heard the familiar sound of a deliberate bustling coming form the dense woods before them, and when he turned to bring his attention to it he found an Other staring right into him, almost expectantly.

Lines of dark, marred flesh turned blue scraped down its face, and its blue eyes struck him in the most chilling sense. He swirled back around once more, prepared to carry Talla back to safety if need be, but what remained in his hand was a singular glove. She had disappeared. When he turned to the Other again he found it face to face with him now, and as its chilling hand set upon Jon's shoulder he found himself jolting awake from his bed with a film of sweat encasing him.

The sun had only just come out, and knowing he'd be unable to find his peaceful darkness with the unshakeable panic his dream had afforded him with, Jon dressed for the day and made his way out into the cold.

He began his day unusually, and it would only get more unusual from there.

Though it was a slightly earlier start than he was used to, Jon knew that Talla's start came only slightly after -so for anyone else it would have only seemed mildly strange not to find her out and around the keep by the time the entire castle was awake, but to Jon it seemed peculiar. _Perhaps she is unwell today,_ he thought to himself, but as the day progressed Jon noted Ghost's absence as well and it was then that the first seeds of worry were sown -for surely Talla would have let him out regardless of her condition.

He spent the rest of the morning on edge, never forgetting to ask anyone in passing whether they had seen the troubled lady or not -and each time they shook their head negatively his curiosity grew. But curiosity was very different from alarm.

And alarm did not creep its way into him until the stablehand ran to him telling him that they were missing a horse. Instead of heading to the stables to investigate, his legs took him to the King's Tower, and upon finding the tower's only resident's room vacant Jon found a shortness of breath he had forgotten he was capable of.

 _She's gone._

Armed with nothing but a horse, Ghost and whatever wits she had about her, she had gone. The possibilities were endless -she could have gone south to wherever, East to Eastwatch -Seven Hells, if Jon didn't know her better he'd resist thinking that she'd venture North of the Wall just to avoid her father.

He had long since given up on his dreams or understanding them, but this could not have been a coincidence.

For all he knew -wherever she had set her mind to go, she could be dead by now. She could have been dead within the first hour of her departure. Something in Jon snapped as he clutched the handle to the door of her empty room, and he slammed it harshly before making his way back to his own chamber -deciding to himself that he would not leave it until he could think of something to do.

"'Ave you found her?" Bearded Ben asked as Jon made his way, and he only gave his response in a somber shake of his head.

"Where could she 'ave gone?" The man wondered with a hint of desperation lining his voice, and to say that Jon was fed up with all that was occurring around him was an understatement.

He turned around to face Bearded Ben, only to find a cluster of their brothers surrounding them; their own expressions holding a question to them as well.

"I don't know, Ben." He sighed in aggressive exasperation; he was so tired of not knowing what to do, his head ached.

"Well, somebody should go look for her!" The bearded man pressed on, and it was at this point that Jon was starting to see red in his vision.

"Where?! Where do we start?!" _Where do I begin looking for someone who doesn't want to be here?_ He thought frantically, knowing that anger was far easier than the fear he knew was lining his gut. _How do I find her?...What if she is lost to me?_

"I say good riddance! We all knew she was more trouble than good." For once, Jon was thankful for Alliser Thorne's bitter contribution, as it made his vision clear and reminded him that though the manifestations of his turbulent path with the lady might be evident to the brothers watching, there was still a way to make it plausible. And by all means, it was only another worry to add to his book.

"If Talla is lost to us then we'll have more to answer for than just a missing horse. We'll be lucky if her father merely withdraws his contributions to the Night's Watch, have you forgotten who her father is? Lord Tarly has the whole Reach behind him, what do you think he'll do if he finds out his eldest daughter disappeared from right under our noses?!"

The cluster was stunned with silence for a moment -that same moment he recalled having peace against the slow sun just days ago, and he knew that he was right in convincing them. He had almost convinced himself as well. Even Alliser Thorne stayed sneering in silence, and so they stayed until Bearded Ben stepped forward once more, directing his gaze at Ser Alliser.

"If you're not willing, i'll volunteer." He looked back to his Lord Commander then with determination. "Just give me a horse."

"Me too." Grenn announced as he stepped forward as well, and suddenly Jon found his nerves swirling back through his blood as some sort of plan formulated within him.

"Ben, you head to the Shadowtower. Grenn, you head south, see if you can track her, i'll come with you. Jeren, you make your way to Eastwatch...she couldn't have gone far." And within seconds, they had all conferred and gone their own ways to prepare -Jon himself stepping thunderously to his room to get his cloak.

As he walked back to his chambers he kept thinking of the one thing that stood out through this entirely curious case - _if she wished to run, why would she take Ghost? Why would Ghost even follow?_

 _It makes no sense._ He kept thinking to himself as he blindly marched into his chamber and made to grab his cloak from its familiar place of rest before hearing something that made him stop in his tracks.

"I'm glad to see you are well." He knew that voice. Somewhere in the depths of him, he knew that voice far too well.

Slowly, with his arm still stretched out to reach for his riding cloak, Jon turned around on his heel to find the sight he was bewildered to witness in his chambers.

There, right in the middle of his bedchamber, stood the Red Woman. The first living thing to see him when he had awoken.

"How are you here?" He uttered out in disbelief -had his worry over Talla driven him to madness already?

"I've lived long enough to know how to evade a search." She said simply, with her hands woven through the sleeves of her smoked red dress; and Jon didn't know whether it was a trick of the mind, but he could swear that he saw that ruby on her neck glimmer as she spoke.

Interrupting the tense silence of the moment, a thunderous knock sounded through the door. _Grenn, no doubt._

"Are you ready to head out?" Came from Grenn's now distant voice -just as Jon anticipated. And still, with his eyes not leaving the priestess's, he gave his answer hoping his anxiousness would not seep through it so obviously.

"Leave without me! I'll catch up!" Was he only proving her right?

" _Why_ are you here?" Jon prodded with more fear than anger as he heard Grenn's footsteps take him farther and farther away from where he was standing still.

In agonising silence, he waited for an answer he wasn't sure he wanted to hear or was ready to understand. _Why am I still here?_

"To serve the Lord of Light." She answered simply, before adding. "To help you."

 _Your Lord of Light has done enough for me._

"I don't need any more of your help." She had played with the order of the Gods, and returned him like he had watched Others come back from the dead. He was madness, now, ever since awakening. He was black, a void. Bottomless. Empty. The few things he had were all he could hold on to. He had died, and was reborn just to wonder what or who he was all over again.

"I brought you back, Jon Snow, because the Lord of Light willed it. He's not done with you yet." _I owe you nothing._ He thought spitefully. In that moment, he hated her. He hated the Red Woman and Stannis and Ser Davos and the Lord of Light. He never asked for it -for anything. He never asked to become Lord Commander and lead an army against the downfall of Man -and yet he still died for it. He never asked for that _woman_ to take any sort of interest in him -and yet she plucked him out from the flames into darkness for it.

"You have to leave." He insisted, now wanting to at least turn his back on the thing calling his attention.

Jon stood his ground, keeping his feet firmly placed on the ground even though they were itching to run far away and onto the nearest horse he could find, and even though the Red Woman slowly approach him, he kept still.

Her hand slithered across his chest, and he wondered how she felt so warm as her breath dampened on his skin when he had noted earlier that she wore no cloak.

"There is a war to come, Jon Snow, let me help you." The woman's made its way even further down his chest, and before Jon could stop her it had found its way to his groin.

The momentary lapse in judgement set his mind to blank, and before he could push her away he could feel her hand moving against him, attempting to stimulate a part of him that he thought had died along with him, and yet nothing happened. He remained flaccid in his breeches, and the Woman's hand fell as soon as she sensed it as well. _Maybe it did die with me._

"The girl will not do you any good." She uttered out with a smirk, still pressed against him.

"Is that what your visions tell you?" Jon communicated coarsely. He had no wish to ask who she spoke of; for he knew. He had no wish to ask _how_ she knew of her or the affection he had sought to mask; for he knew he would not like the answer.

"I don't need a vision to know a lovestruck man when I see one."

He staggered back, faintly shaking his head in the process of the millions of thoughts rushing through him. _I am not in love. You can't be here. You couldn't know, no one could know._ And Jon latched on to the one thought that made any real sense: _You can't be here. You can't be here. You can't be here._

"I'm leaving now. When I return, you best not be here. Else the brother will be made aware of your presence here." Jon tried not to make it sound like an exhale, but he knew that both his frustration and rage made it impossible to sound as smooth as he wished.

Without waiting for a smart reply, Jon pushed himself away from her unnatural warmth and left his chambers in a quick march.

By the time he had mounted his horse and his way to the gate he began hearing the restless screams; and they were not those of worry.

"It's her! It's Lady Talla!" He heard them yell from the tower, and against the slow setting dusk Jon breathed out in relief even through the whirlwind of all his emotions. _She's back. She came back._

He pushed his way to the entrance, awaiting her impatiently and with a near frantic desire to see her and put all his worries aside. _Maybe she was only going for a ride. Maybe she needed to clear her head. Perhaps now things can change back to what they were._

But as Jon watched her ascend to the gates on her mighty dark horse with Ghost in eager pursuit he found her face awash with no regret and no relief, only pure stone once again. Haughty and high, she remained on her horse in silence as she rode in even as a crown of anticipatory faces began to gather around her.

She dismounted her horse without a squeak or grunt, and after she handed the reigns to Satin, she looked around unwaveringly at the men in question before her.

"Good evening." Was all she coolly said before she stepped forward, icily brushing past Jon himself and left her footsteps in the snow.

Shaking off the incredulousness of her nonchalance, Jon turned around in quick pursuit and in two steps had latched his hand gently upon her elbow to stop her.

"Where were you? Talla! Where did you go?" He tried to look for her eyes, but she neither gave him the satisfaction of addressing him nor the relief of casting her eyes down in some sort of shame. Instead, she looked up, casting her answer to all that listened -which at that point seemed to be the entire castle.

"I was at the New Gift." She answered simply, almost like it was what everyone was expecting to hear.

"With the Wildlings? By the Gods child...what were you thinking?" Ser Denys Mallister piped in in shock at how she could venture there alone.

"That the Watch are the only allies the Wildlings have and vice versa, yet they are still not reconciled with that truth." Talla looked around with steel in her gaze, daring an interruption to part her words -but it never came. "I've invited them to Castle Black for a feast in a week's turn, it's time this union is cemented."

He could tell that more than just a word of complaint was about to make its way out of a large portion of those standing around the lady, but his own wrath wouldn't give them the chance -instead, it stunned them to silence.

"You did what?" Jon roared out at the prideful lady, who was already on her way to make her exit before she allowed a brief flash of fear to conjoin on her visage before forcibly turning herself back to stone.

"I invited the Wildings. For a feast. Next week. There is much to prepare." She spoke with such condescension against his obvious passion that it only served to fuel his anger.

He stood in his place, however, still fuming visibly and did not even think to move until she decided to turn her back on him once more. It was then that he followed her with a loud thump in his step, and two steps in Talla's own walk seemed to turn into almost a jog as she tried to make it to her room without an incident -but Jon would not have it, not after what she had put him through and how she saw fit to announce t without so much as the dignity of properly explain it.

He was close to her now, breathing over her shoulder and feeling dozens of pairs of eyes watching.

"You just do whatever it is you want!" It was true -since the moment she had arrived she had sought to do as she pleased. And Jon had foolishly let her.

" _The girl will not do you any good."_

She turned around with a sudden anger almost capable of matching his own, and she did not back away as roared right back at him.

"Everything i ever do, apparently, is by the grace of another!"

"What did you think would happen?! You just left -Talla listen!" He tried to grab her once more as she attempted to shrug him away, but only ended up stumbling against a wall with Talla in the crossfire.

"Did you think we wouldn't notice?! Did you think we wouldn't worry?!" He tried to question him once more as he searched her face for some sign of vulnerability, and this time she actually answered him.

"Of course you would worry!" She forcibly scoffed with tears welling in her eyes, "If i'm gone then you have nothing to trade with!"

Jon wished he could say that that hadn't even crossed his mind. He wished that he could stand there -yes, angry, but still undeniably close to her, and tell her of how his heart constricted almost deafeningly at the unsightly notion of her being lost to him. He longed, especially now as he looked down at those lips that have both encouraged and insulted him, to bring to her understanding that his limbs felt numb to him without her, that the food had no taste and the cold didn't even sting. He wished to say all those things, or entertain the thought of her being open to listening to them, but as ever-open eyes watching he regretfully peeled himself away from her -finally seeing the regret on her face as well.

Before he could say anything else, one of the latest recruits -a steward, stepped into what none of the other brothers could dare step into, and spoke with a subtle shake in his own frame.

"L-Lord Commander?"

"Yes, Kal." He answered with his head down.

"It's Ser Wynton," At the recognition of that name, Jon's head raised itself back up -as did Talla's, and they both looked to the young, shaking steward who they had both just realised was the one tasked with caring for Ser Wynton during the day.

"He's dead."

* * *

 **Talla**

"And now his watch is ended." She whispered into what felt like an empty room as she brushed Ser Wynton's eyes close.

She could still feel the weather -the course snow, across her face from the ride to and from, but the chill to this dead man's skin still managed to prick through her bones.

Talla felt alone with the corpse. She sat by him on his bed -the same spot in the same room that Talla had entered and exited and spent hours by his side, feeding him, soothing his feverish dreams, letting him tell her all the stories he swore were true. But now there was only silence; only silence and Jon's somber presence lingering somewhere behind her.

He was angry with her; he wouldn't have pushed her against a wall with a war in his eyes if he wasn't. She wondered for a moment -for the first time, whether she had done the right thing doing what she did. But there would be no time to question things for Talla -there was no _room_ for her to question herself. She had made her own decision -one she thought would benefit those that it involved, but still... _He is angry with me_.

 _It was I that had been angry with him._ She still was, but now he had a justifiable reason to be angry with her in turn, and though Talla wished she couldn't admit it to herself she still thought that it somehow made her anger hurt him less.

Talla, as selfish a wish as it may have been, wanted Jon to hurt even if it was a petty and small kind of hurt.

 _He had hurt me, too._ More than she could ever explain, he had undermined her in every way. And perhaps what she had done was her own sort of redemption, maybe she wanted to allow herself to forgive him.

But as she sat there at the dead man's side for the second time since arriving at the Wall, she found it hard to imagine anything so tender could still be found this far North.

"Why did you go to them? To the Wildlings?" She heard him ask the question she knew he was begging to ask the whole time they had given Ser Wynton enough respect with their silence.

"You wouldn't have listened to me. I had to do it myself." Talla wiped the tears she couldn't tell had fallen as she spoke, and even with that she knew that he would not understand.

"You could have been in danger-" _Of course you don't understand._

"I was trying to help you. Don't you understand?" Perhaps it was the fact that Ser Wynton felt so cold even when she wasn't touching him, perhaps it was the arduous journey to and from that she had taken for a cause that only she seemed to think was worth fighting for, but she suddenly found her shoulders slumping in exhaustion. "I was trying to save you."

 _That's all i've wanted since knowing you. You're still worth saving._

To her surprise, he didn't answer the statement that she had given out so full of emotion, and with her head still cast down in an attempt to cover her tribulations she decided to pick herself up and continue on.

"Soon...soon i'll be gone." Talla started as she almost winced at the reality, "I'll be left to play in a garden while you and your men fight a war with the dead...and there's nothing I can do then to help you."

She hoped he would understand what she was trying to say. _I can't prance around in the Reach while you all die. If i'm condemned to spend the rest of my life as someone's wife, i'd at least like to live knowing I did my very best to the men who took me in -even if they don't see it at the time._

After the moment passed in silence, Talla cast her eyes down once more to Ser Wynton's body. If she looked hard enough, she could almost see how fried and frazzled his brain was and the effect it had on him. Now, at least now, in death, he looked like he was at peace. _He may have lost his mind but the least we could do for him is burn him like he asked._ She thought to herself.

"I'll let them know to start a pyre." The Lord Commander said almost as if he had read her mind -at this point Talla was unsure whether he truly could or not. And so she nodded simply, cocking her head to the side with an unsure expression as she watched him bob his head and turn for the door.

"You're trying, aren't you?" She found herself blurting out without any sort of elaboration. She had meant to say, 'you haven't given up, have you?' or 'you're not dead yet, you know that, right?', but to her disappointment it was only those simple words that agreed to leave her mouth.

And still, despite her lack of eloquence or understanding, the man who never smiled did just what he was famed not to do.

"Every day."

* * *

 **Apologies for any mistakes or if the text feels drawled out -I really tried to power through this chapter in the last couple of days just cause it's been sitting in my mind for too long and hopefully now that I have it done I can feel refreshed enough to work on the next one (spoilers: it's definitely getting...hotter...).**

 **So sorry again for the long hiatus, but i'd really like to know your honest opinions/ideas about this!**

 **Review, review, review!**


	13. A True Knight

**A/N:** **As always -sorry for the delay, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 **Thank you for all the continued support.**

* * *

 **Jon**

There was something gripping in the way they had watched Ser Wynton's corpse burn in the black night. Even when every one else had walked away, Jon and Talla remained standing side by side -almost as they were in his dream.

 _"The girl will not do you any good."_ The Red Witch had said to him, and he couldn't deny the trouble her presence had always brought him. Skirmishes -more than he needed, with his men, nagging on every little change she wished to make, and now a sudden feast with the people the Night's Watch had spent centuries at war with. He didn't need that to be added to his plate, but he had a feeling she'd be able to get it done -even if it were regrettably that he thought so. And yet through her troublesome and stubborn ways she had managed to afford him with a cool, calming, peace that fell upon his mind whenever it remained a victim to the storm. It was irritable to admit -especially after the fiasco of that day, but with her return he still found _some_ peace -even if his heart beat wildly at something else he couldn't discern.

They stood for what felt like hours with only Ghost and an unencumbered silence between them just watching the flames devour the flesh that remained on the dead man's old bones. _I was wrong about her, still._ He thought to himself as the flames bounced harshly off her complex visage, _She is not winter's servant. She is winter's very bone._ For he had never seen anyone else take to the cold as she had -he had never witnessed anyone else defy the laws of the barren North and make life grow where it dared not to before. _Maybe those Wildling children were right about her -maybe she is a witch._

" _Fire!"_ The crazed men had screamed shrill into the night while he roamed through the snow in his night shirt. _Into the night. And into me, as well._ Ser Wynton had long since stopped making any sense to anyone, but Jon still couldn't wrap his head around what he could have meant that night that he fell.

Seemingly both ashamed of their outbursts and what they had done to one another, they retired wordlessly in unison to their separate quarters for the night -but that was not to say that Jon found any sleep once he had found the familiar warmth of his chambers.

Jon looked around the room -a simple space, indeed, but in it dwelled the past Lord Commanders of the Night's Watch centuries before he was ever even born. He slept in the same bed that other men had found no sleep in. Men who, from what he knew of the logs, fought day and night to keep their men alive. They must have tossed and turned in that bed for hours, thinking of how to withstand the winter, how to keep their men fed, how to kill Wildings, and yet too often Jon had lain in that bed and thought of only one thing; one girl.

Things were far from resolved -and frankly, Jon couldn't see a scenario where things could ever go back to what they were. Even admitting his _want_ to go back was damning to him; nearly shameful. Their silence was comfortable, _warm_ even as a man lay dead in the same room, and there was something in him that would not allow the rest of him to go to sleep without mulling over every second of having her back. She was there, still, only rooms away, and if Jon wanted to - _really_ wanted to, he could reach out and touch her.

He tossed and turned in his bed, trying to curse her name until he was faced with the ceiling once more. Laying in that bed for Gods knew how long, Jon thought of something he hadn't thought of in a long while; his mother.

Faceless -she was always faceless, just like his sisters now were to him, but always beautiful in his dreams. In his mind she was never a whore or a maid -she was highborn and kind. He couldn't help but think about the warmth she may have had, and whether she had run away from anything either. Could Talla just as easily be a mother to some Jon Snow?

He remembered how Sam had teased him sympathetically for it, but it was his silent truth. The outsider of Winterfell refused to make an outsider out of anyone else. Jon ran the thought around in his mind, over and over again, trying to think up new ways his make-believe mother could have fled her own home in a way even more absurd than Talla had; how she had met his father under the most strangling of circumstances; how they had saved each other -how he was more than a mistake; and somewhere, on the very precipice of consciousness, right before he finally fell to the darkness of his sleep, Jon thought of how someone like _her_ could feel the same as someone like _him_.

When Jon woke the next day, he was sure to scold himself and erase all that had transpired within him the night before as he reminded himself that as he tossed and turned in his single bed, Talla Tarly was probably fast asleep in her own.

It was what he kept in mind for days after that one, especially when he'd come across her. They had hardly had a chance to speak -and Jon had the distinct feeling that it was the last thing she wanted, but one thing was clear, she was going through with the feast. And so he'd watch in complete silence as she rode out with the brothers at the break of day to reinforce the defenses; as she rode back two hours later to fix the hall; as she prepared and rationed enough food for the event; as she pricked her dainty fingers sowing and dying new cloaks and doublets for them all, all through that Jon wondered that she was probably thinking of everything in the world _but_ him. He knew it should have pushed him away, but it only fueled his fire further than he could have ever wanted it to.

Nevertheless, there was a calmness in awaiting what was to come. It felt like the biggest test -a test Jon knew they needed to pass. He wouldn't have ever personally suggested the matter be brought to a test in such a manner, but he had to admit that he had been hesitant in keeping the matter under the rug -after all, he had been killed for it, hadn't he? The only way any of them would survive the Winter is together, whether they wanted to or not.

The week after Talla's _return_ passed in much of the same fashion for Jon; he woke, watched, tried to keep himself busy with something else, and went back to sleep. Tonight was no different -his dreams were not different, they had been the same pitch black screen that taunted him most nights, the only difference was when he felt a weight upon him in the dark of night.

He tore his eyes open, lifting himself in shock hoping to find the intruding mass to merely be Ghost, but as his iris adjusted to the darkness, Jon found himself facing the object of his desire and frustration.

She lifted a finger to her lips with a slight purse to them. She couldn't be Talla Tarly -no, Talla Tarly never had sleep dusted around her eyes so; Talla Tarly never came to his room and roused him awake by sitting on his lap.

He hardly knew what to do with himself - _or with her_. Besides the obvious conflict, nothing came to him until he felt her move against him in the dark once more.

"Talla." There it came, the name he had for more than a few nights now not wished to utter, and in response he felt her fingers come across his jaw in preceding steps -almost like how moss grew on a stone wall, and his resolve withered away at the sensation of this tired closeness.

"You say my name so well." She whispered in a voice full of thickness and something else, _want_. _It sounds like want._ She breathed in one more time before exhaling on to him, her lips brushing against his tauntingly.

His hands found their way to her side, unsure of whether to push her away or pull her closer, but it was not him that would decide. It never was. He felt the loss of one of her hands from his jaw but quickly felt it once more over his own reluctant hand, pressing it firmer onto her as she dug her nails in his arm.

"Touch me." Talla's voice came pressed against his ear, and Jon looked up to discern whether she wasn't being someone else in that moment.

Her lips caught his definitively before his eyes could catch anything, and in a swift recollection of the fateful night their lips had met once before, Jon found his hand slipping under whatever crease he could find in her skirt and up her resting thigh.

Talla's hands circled his shoulders firmly, bringing him to press even closer to her, molding them both into this unfortunate and misunderstood _thing_ in the middle of his bed -but Jon had scarcely felt so rich, so divine. It was this smooth, velvet, touch; the slip of her tongue against his, that moved him to flip them over and effectively pin her upon his mattress.

Now in a position that allowed him to be in more control than just falling prey to the motions of her hips, Jon's hands seemed to move over the most minuscule of places; the most mundane of territories. He trailed his fingers from her dotted birthmarks on her neck, down to the soft amble that awaited him between her neck and shoulder, and lower even to the slight curve of her breast he would sometimes notice when she bent lowly before him. He ground himself against her heat, feeling himself grow despite himself as she moaned faintly into his open, awaiting mouth.

It was everything he could never before describe, everything until the sound of her sultry breaths faded into the sound of a soft thump from his distinct recollection; the thump of wood he knew occurred when he latched down his door from the inside. A sudden drop kicked in to his gut, and Jon pulled himself off the welcome heat of Talla's writhing body to see her lips -swollen with affection, confused and hungry.

"How did you get in here?" He remembered now -the latch was down on the door, it always was ever since _that night_. Jon turned his head back at his door and saw that the latch was still in place; how could Talla have come in without breaking down the door?

When he looked back at her, where she was only moments ago unfolding in desperation, she was now giggling wildly. Her laughter filled the room, her eyes tightly shut, and the sound grew loud enough to almost a cackle as Jon tried to shake her out of it -harder, and harder, until she dissipated right within his fingers into ashes and the room was silent and dark, once more.

When he flung awake this time he knew it to be real. It was just starting to get light outside, and as he examined his surroundings -the untouched latch on his door being his immediate concern, Jon found his unwitting hand upon himself -one he was quick to remove.

He bolted to the door next, needing to check it for his own sake, and came to almost find disappointment stirring within him to see the latch untouched from the inside. _It wasn't real._

Jon should have been glad at the discovery, he should have _known_ that whatever it was that hovered over him dangerously in that bed was not the girl probably just stirring awake herself in the King's Tower. And yet, after knowing how she could feel beneath his touch, how she could _look_ if she wanted him, Jon felt a strange pull that his mightiest resolve had always thwarted. _She wanted me to kiss her, once, didn't she? Could that want dissolve even when mine hasn't in the face of all her stubborn shows of competence; her forceful terms; her jarring decisions. Could she..._

He stopped himself from going any further.

 _I am Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. She is a Lady._ And, unless there was another mutiny being planned under his nose on this cold winter day, that would not change.

* * *

 **Denys**

Ser Denys had served long; he had served hard. But scarcely in his long life had he seen a woman as perplexing as the young Talla Tarly -so stubborn with her fresh hope, insistent upon her new ways and unencumbered by opinions. _And above all, unafraid._

Boldness had always been an unsure trait to him. Denys always found himself unsure of when boldness could be justly admired when it felt like a thin line of glory that lay between a daring strength and determined stupidity -but even then, he had only men to judge for that, and never a woman.

He had served - _and lived,_ long, yes, but there were not many bold women he could boast - _reluctantly,_ of knowing, and even then the small circle he could count them to always belonged to the North. There were she-wolfs, of course, some old, some mothers waiting for attack just to show their fervent protection of their children, and then there were some young, as well. Strong women, especially up North, were no small group -not as Denys knew them, but _daring_...daring was another breed entirely. The women had long since ruled over Bear Island, strong, capable, fierce, but not intrepid...never heroic. The wolfsblood that haunted the Starks always gave some expectation for their women to grow wild, but Denys recalled the wolfgirl's eyes at that damned tourney, and he knew that no matter how many horses she was _allowed_ to ride, she would be bound by the shackles of her Warden's orders. Merman's court, however, was a different place -a place where young girls dyed their hair green and championed for fallen Kings when no one would hear their name. _The Manderlys have always been as such._

 _The Tarly's are not daring,_ he reminded himself as his dusted mind struggled to recall the faces of the girl's grandfathers landing on their arses by his lance, _but I suppose in many ways she may be an exception._

There was no use now in returning to the Shadow Tower, what with this 'feast' ordeal still going on as she supposedly had planned, and so Denys lingered on in the mess hall a while after lunch to construct his instructing letters in air that wasn't as stifling as it was in his chambers.

It was strange to encounter such silence -such peace, even with the clanking of metal coming from the training yard and the less foolish clanking coming from the kitchens where the girl was no doubt persevering with her preparations. _Preparations,_ he could almost scoff at the thought of Wildlings needing such concern, _they are savages -ignorant at best._ They wouldn't notice whether Lady Talla had used enough eggs in their pastries, or salted the cured meat enough, or come to appreciate the new tables and all the subtle details she had strived to create over the course of this week. He had to wonder, what was all this for?

Denys could wonder all he wished; and he had said all he could to advise against it to the Lord Commander, but in the end that was all he could do, _advise._ There was _some_ merit to it, in his opinion it was still not enough to justify the empty show of allegiance, but it must have been enough for the young man entrusted with all their lives. _Of course, it helps no one that he is under her spell, too._ He would have thought that Jon Snow would be impervious to such charms, especially -from what he could tell, that the girl didn't seem to hold any sort of special interest for casting her _spell_ his way in the first place. She was charming, of course, to all that came across her - _that southern charm can not be so easily avoided, even with a father as stiff as Randyll,_ but knowing himself to be a little late in her introduction Denys did find himself noticing a subtle _deliberate_ distance the girl addressed their Lord Commander with. He was a ranger; he _watched_ , he _observed,_ and he had seen enough to understand that no girl smiles at you like that -no matter how much of a distance she strives to place between you. _This won't be any good to any of us._ He could only silently _advise_ the Lord Commander of that.

As the quill softly turned in his hand with his contemplations, Jon Snow made his entrance to the mess hall.

He wandered curiously at first before his eyes settled upon the old bearded man, and gave his entrance a false sense of purpose as he approached him and took a seat on the bench across him.

"Didn't think i'd find you here." The young man crossed his arms sullenly on the table even as his tone suggested a lighter air to it. Still, he seemed...jumpy. Nervous, even.

"Even in such a winter I find those rooms too stifling, Lord Commander." Denys responded with ease as he took the conversation as nonchalantly as he could. "And besides, someone should keep some sort of watch over the lady." He nodded his head carefully forward to the kitchens, alive with commotion. _How one girl could make so much noise is still beyond me._

Jon Snow did not even inquisitively turn -he merely kept his back straight and his head low, and when he brought his head back up again he wore an apology that Denys had almost gotten used to seeing on him.

"I appreciate you being here, Ser Denys, I know the Shadow Tower needs you too."

They had both been raised in castles -great fortresses. They had both had lessons, maesters, and highborn company. A bastard he may be, but Jon Snow was just as chivalrous and well-spoken as any of Denys's brothers, and up here Denys could admit to himself that it was a welcome change.

"I'm sure they can manage." He tried to sooth with as little emphasis as possible - _we are still men, after all._ "Is anyone coming from Eastwatch for this...event?" He added further.

"Emmett." Jon Snow said with a tight smile. _Ah, yes, the pride of Eastwatch._

"Emmett? You'd think those spearwives would keep him occupied enough. Perhaps he hasn't had his fill of Wildlings." Denys knew that his mature disposition didn't always allow for him to be the most humorous of companions -or the most sought after if he were to be honest, but he at least expected a chuckle at the very least from the dark young man.

It was then that Jeren walked in, nodding respectfully to both men before heading sheepishly to the kitchens with a sneak in his step. They both watched him in playful suspicion -more in concern over what the lady would do to him than what he would do to the lady, before Denys turned to his Lord Commander again.

"Is there something you wished to say?" There was every use in being plain. Being well-spoken was one thing, but being straight to the point was always a preference at Castle Black.

"The...the men, being sent in the retinue in exchange for Lady Talla's safe return, i'm going to send two thirds of them with you back to the Shadow Tower." He said slowly as he stared intently at his black gloves, "Can you handle that, Ser?" His grey eyes met Denys's blue ones, and the old man found a small smile in him somewhere he could have sworn was long lost to him.

"Gladly." It should have been definitive -it should have been the end of that, but as the moment lingered he found himself looking back at those kitchens, and he wondered what it would be like without the sound of that clacking. "Though I must say, despite knowing better, the lady's presence will be missed."

They had both been raised in castles -great fortresses, where there was always food, music, laughter, and women. Not to be lascivious with, but to share their grace with. The Night's Watch was an order of men -men who would do things that most women would faint at the thought of, but after so many years of knowing nothing but the brutes, Denys has missed such grace. He must have missed it so yearningly that he felt no hesitance in admitting it.

The young man lowered his head once more as his brow cinched, he brought his fingers to trace over the grooved wood and carried on staring like he was trying to convince himself of something.

"She doesn't belong here, I know that." He didn't bother looking up at Denys to say that, and Denys was content to leave him be before he heard a loud thump of metal hitting a wall as Jeren ran out of the kitchen with his eyes in wide alarm.

"If you touch my kitchen again you won't need that black cloak to keep you from putting your cock in a Mole's Town whore!"

"I must beg to differ, Lord Commander." He imprudently chuckled.

* * *

 **Melisandre**

Fire, and blood. Always so much of it came to her whenever the Lord of Light did.

It was so when she came across Stannis Baratheon, too. She was visited by smoke that suffocated her and salt upon her breath -and it only meant one thing.

 _One thing, and I have gladly given lives for it. One thing._

She had almost lost hope, she had almost thought her Lord a liar -one that promised her salvation as he took and took and took. The prophet, the reborn prince that she had promised Stannis to be...it was all a lie. There was no Stannis, there was no Baratheon army -and under her own instruction, there was no trueborn Baratheon heir.

Many things haunted her in her sleep whenever she dared to sleep -Shireen's screams were now one of them. It wasn't her pity, it wasn't her regret, it was her stupidity that got to her. She trusted all of the visions thinking they would not change; that the Lord of Light would not lead her to a better destiny.

She didn't think it could be possible, not after learning - _feeling,_ Stannis's army march down to their certain death, she thought that in that moment, perhaps she was big enough to be set up for failure.

But she hadn't failed -their fight was still to be had, and it was in Jon Snow. There was fire and blood in him too, she could feel it even as his blood ran cold in his veins and his eyes were closed to the world they lived in. There was no choice then, there was no _question_ , of what lives she would give for his...it had to be done, and she left the body out to burn just as his should have.

The alcoves of Castle Black were deep, twisted, and far too many for even the majority of them all to look in. That coupled with the fact that her faith allowed for her to be in no such need of _mortal_ necessities made it quite simple for Melisandre to remain unseen and unharmed within the walls of this Castle that was not a castle. She did, however, have to change hiding places every once in a while to avoid being found by that _girl_. Which, as it happens, was searching for something down in the pantry whilst Melisandre hid behind the empty shelfs, watching with red eyes that grew even redder with perplexity -what is it about the girl that Jon Snow finds enchanting enough to bind him? She has not given him her touch yet, Melisandre knew. What would drive Jon Snow's loyalty to such lengths? She was plain to an eye that had seen many beauties -even plainer to the beauty Melisandre knew herself to have; she had inspired lust in even the most moral of men. _And yet, I can hear him whisper her name in his slumber._

He has a stupid, silly, faithful heart. _One that would serve the Lord of light fully if he were to submit to him as fervently as Stannis had._ It would be easy to add the girl's name to the others that had lost their lives to the Lord's triumph. It would be easy, to push the heavy oak cupboard onto her. It would be quiet, and no one would notice until it was dark. _They have no maester here, she could bleed out by dark._ But just as her hands gripped the heavy wood she gave herself a moment to calculate whether that action would bring Jon Snow any closer or farther to her cause.

Just as the delicious thought of Jon Snow's submission rolled about her breath, she saw him enter from behind the girl, and as his eyes landed on that plain, plain mop of brown hair, Melisandre knew that the best thing for him would be her departure.

Sensing Jon's presence immediately -though she had been unsuccessful at ever sensing her's, the girl turned around to face him.

"What are you doing down here?"

* * *

 **Talla**

"What are you doing down here?" She asked, and Jon just stood there surprised that she had the voice to do so. _Not Jon, he is Lord Commander Snow._

He just stood there, watching. _He is always just standing, watching me._ Pushing it aside, Talla huffed in frustration -she had little time to waste.

"I didn't come here to get stared at. There is much to do." She turned back to the shelves -some bare and some just slightly holding on, and her mind raced wildly trying to discern what she could do with enough ease to get her mind of _his_ wandering eyes.

"What did Sam tell you about me?" Their silence was suddenly permeated with his raspy voice which simultaneously filled her with confusion.

"Excuse me?" She turned inquisitively; of all the things she could think he'd say to her, _that_ was hardly one of them.

With his head down, he made his way closer, and Talla had to remind herself not to let her anger flare with indignity that he could even venture to do so.

"Twice you've said to me that I wasn't the man your brother said I was...what kind of man was that?"

Talla had almost forgotten the poison she had spurned his way -it was easy to forget when you felt some shame at the recollection. She had done her part though -she had kept her head down and worked to fulfill the promise she had made even if it was not the one made to Sam. After that night...it was easy to say that Talla had little hope for whatever it is she thought could have been between her and the Lord Commander. _I doubt that is what Sam had in mind._ Though, indeed, there some sort of peaceful ceasefire between them it was only tentative at best. She couldn't remember the way his council sounded, the way his smile felt when it floated across the dark night air, the way his strong hand felt upon her elbow as it strove to bring her nothing but comfort. All of those things were stuck in Talla's throat, and she knew that all she had to do to make an effort at having them back was to tell him what Sam had told her -what kind of man Talla had thought did not exist anymore. But, like many things up at the Wall, it failed to live long enough to see the light of day. _Or the dark of this basement._

"I can't say." She choked out meekly, and turned to blankly face those _stupid_ shelves once more. But as she felt the shift of his own boots turning to the door, something daring in Talla gave her voice enough push to fight her hesitations, and she turned to face his hesitant back once more.

"He said you always stood for those who couldn't yet stand for themselves." He stopped in his tracks with only his head cocked to the side; his ear itching for more. "He told me how you helped him, defended him." She could have stopped there -she had said more than enough, but her confusion drove her to confessions that she still did wish to be made known. "I was... stupid. For some reason I thought you'd do the same for me."

"If things were different..." Talla had realised how close he had gotten in the midst of her mindless ramble. Lord Commander Snow was not a foot away, looking down at her shoes with an explanation upon his tongue. Somehow, someway, an explanation was the most condescending thing he could offer in her eyes, and that is why she did not let him continue. Talla didn't want his explanations -she didn't want his apologies...she wanted his unfiltered, unmitigated ear.

"He told me how strong you were; how you were a better fighter and swordsman than half the seasoned rangers of the Watch." She pressed on, and was surprised to find that her voice did not catch in her windpipe the closer he got to her. Even as she felt the Lord Commander's breath tickle her nose, her voice remained steady.

"He said-" She was interrupted momentarily by his hand reaching for her hair. His gloved hand traced over the side of her scalp, and Talla closed her eyes -let herself have just that one moment of reprieve to imagine how her muddy tendrils looked upon his dark gloves.

"He said?" Lord Commander Snow asked her, his voice low, and if Talla did not know any better she'd think that perhaps the man was being coy himself.

When her eyes newly opened, it was with a determination to persevere.

"He said that you hardly ever liked a girl more than you liked your own hair."

He smiled -just as he rarely did, and Talla felt the both of them thaw in the heated exchange they had created.

"Sounds like Sam." He was so _close_. His hand was on her; his _eyes_ , Talla could almost feel them rake across her skin in the painstaking pattern he was allowing them to roam -but she would not allow them to be an impediment to her speech. She would not allow herself to be the first to crumble in resolve.

"He told me that...that all the girls always thought you handsome." His eyes were hooded now, his smile _almost_ wolfish, and his hand was slowly slipping down to her waist.

"And?" She felt his fingers curl hungrily around her waist, breathing something almost animalistic into Talla as she struggled for enough breath to endure the suffocating game of cat and mouse they were apparently playing.

"And that you have a _special disposition_ towards redheads."

He stopped for a moment and brought his head back only _slightly,_ to examine her himself -and he must have seen the truth even though she had been so hesitant in revealing it.

"Untrue." He whispered as he leaned further in, pressing his chest upon Talla's.

Her eyes closed in ready anticipation -in steady preparation for him them both to relinquish control and that silly, _silly,_ search for domination once more. When she abruptly opened her eyes in alarm, his lips were almost brushing hers.

"What are you doing?" She suddenly asked -why was he _relinquishing_ anything?

 _Why is he pursuing me? Wasn't he the one who was trading me to my own betrothed?_ A moment had to be taken to question his motives -but she should have known that the Lord Commander had never exactly been too...forthright with her.

"Where i'm from, we call it a kiss." He quoted her own words back at her -it was a game they had been used to playing by now, and Talla almost allowed a small smile to creep out of her before he continued on. "Girls'll sing you songs of love, and in them there is always a knight winning a lady's love; her favour; her kiss."

She listened almost wistfully to him speaking as he never had before, entranced by a vision of him gallantly riding his horse with a lance in tow. Jon Snow was no dream -he was no fairytale. _Who knew Jon Snow could be charming?_

"Do they really sing such songs up North?" She breathed out almost like a swooning maiden in his arms.

"All the time." Jon circled his fingers around her waist, and in his voice Talla could hear all the low vows he had ever sworn to anyone. "But I am no knight." He leaned in again, deeper and more daring -right at the cusp of a kiss, and Talla swallowed hard at the gesture. He was giving her a _choice,_ he was telling her that this time the decision would not be made for her.

Do, or die, it was all in Talla's hands.

"And yet I am still a Lady." She turned away from him, picking up her basket and sauntering out of the room with as little a shake as possible. Talla could feel his rising smile even as she left him behind.

 _I doubt that I sounded so convinced._

* * *

 **Next chapter will be even more...satisfying.**

 **Review, review, review!**


	14. New Traditions

**So very sorry for the long wait you guys. Last semester was crazy and I just didn't feel inspired enough to keep up with any of my stories and on top of all that I had surgery a couple months back so I haven't really been up for much but...what can I say...I found the inspiration to write this at a really funny time. It's been really difficult for me to find the inspiration (and the time) with this story in particular since i've always felt like it was the least liked one out of them, but I always knew that i'd never abandon it, and hopefully i'll be able to finish it before the next season of Game of Thrones airs this year.**

 **I hope you enjoy and I hope I can slowly start getting my groove back!**

* * *

 **Jon**

He watched, as mournfully as he often did, from a corner as the entirety of Castle Black bustled with life and, it would seem, nervousness. The day had finally come.

On top of waiting for a tribe of Wildlings' arrival, on top of the underlying resentment waiting to be spilled, on top of the rushed preparations to perfect such Northern gruffness, and on top of the _waiting_ in itself...today was the day that the Tarly retinue was due to arrive. That had been a completely different argument in itself -the moment Jon had told her of their closeness to Castle Black she had stared him down as icily as her feminine brow would allow, as if to say, "Surely, you would not have me leave before the feast." And sure enough, perhaps due to his own selfish ways, he had promised her that that feast was hers.

He understood, of course, besides her reluctance to return to her father, why she would insist on staying. It would be one night -just one night, and yet it'd be the sum of all her deeds to the Night's Watch. Begrudging, surely, but never with ill intentions, and always done to preserve its own good.

He stood in the corner with the blacksmith and the silent task he had successfully entrusted and received from him, and departed with a wordless word of thanks from him as he continued to convoy carefully over the yard.

Amongst the hustle and bustle, Jon's eyes scoured the yard -formerly used for training green boys to use the right end of their swords, as it buzzed alive with preparations suited for a King's visit. Jon would know -he was probably the only one of them who had witnessed it.

Suddenly, he was back at Winterfell helping Old Nan move a crate of beets - or at least trying to help her, as he kept a distant eye on Bran and Arya knowing there were other eyes rested upon them too. It was not the same snow that surrounded him, or the same people, or the same overwhelming sense of loneliness, but it was that preemptive _feeling_...as if something was bound to change...as if he would no longer be standing still. It was true for the King's visit in Winterfell that year - _everything_ changed before the King had even left their keep -but what more change could he handle coming about with Talla's departure?

 _Life went on before her...it will surely not stop for her._ Jon reminded himself begrudgingly of just how _insistent_ life had been at going on before he had met her. It was a sour introduction, he knew, but Jon could not, for the life of him, recall when he had met anyone worth meeting in a way that could be described as pleasant.

 _I'll miss her_. The thought floated around in his mind as his eyes absentmindedly traced the lines she was drawing on her upper arm as she spoke to Ser Denys with a furrowed brow. He rolled the piece of steel in his pocket. He had gotten used to seeing her in the mornings -waiting for him with a crown of snow melting in her hair. He had gotten used to hearing her chuckle over a hot meal and to waking in the dead of night to make sure no harm had suddenly befallen her. Even the things he hadn't had the chance to get used to -things he knew were improbable for him ever to get used to, he would miss. Such as the way heat emanated from her chest when he got close enough to hear her blood pumping, or the subtle softness in her eyes right before she closed them in surrender. _She does not make a habit of surrender._ A smirk almost made its way to him, despite the cold and despite the general disposition of the keep, the memory of her want came in flashes he was all too happy not to ignore.

* * *

 **Talla**

 _He's staring at me._ She could feel the Lord Commander's eyes on her -she often could since that day in the pantry.

Talla felt inclined to curse herself every time she remembered what had transpired -what she had almost _allowed_ to transpire between herself and the man in charge of this unholy keep. _I had kissed him once before, though._ And even after all that had happened almost immediately after that and the resulting wedge that tore itself into the already ungraceful peace they had found, she could not forget that he had kissed her back. _In my foolishness, he had kissed me back._ She shook her head just as she could feel her shoulders sag and her mind float off into a maidenly trance -as a maiden, what other trance could it be called? _In my obliviousness, he had kissed me back._

They were both past that -they had to be. Talla knew all too well of how fast things were changing for everyone and not just herself. She would be shipped off to Highgarden once the new sun arose -if it ever did, and as unappealing as that was to her, she knew that what she was leaving behind faced a far greater fight than the one to be had with a fairly kind man in a marriage bed decorated with roses. She had given her sweat and blood; she had stood against the tides and swallowed down the same of doing so and unmasked herself to whispers day and night, all for the defense of a place she could never be sworn to. _I'll leave at first light, but what will follow?_ She'd be lying if she said that she hadn't thought of somehow bringing the matter to King's Landing, but what use would she have for nobleman who were scuffling against each other to fight against their greatest threat yet? _That is, if they would give a battered rose a chance like me to begin with._ That was one thing she could admire about the men up here -yes, they were a band of misfits, a concoction of petty thieves, poor farmhands, rapists and the odd bastard here and there, but they were able to see, even when there was no imminent threat awaiting right outside the gates, that they had a joint purpose; a _reason_ to unite.

Snapping herself out of the misty reverie that had momentarily overtaken her whilst she stood in the midst of the training yard, Talla resumed in overseeing the preparations due for the night -there was not much time, and she knew well enough their receptions were aplenty tonight.

The cavalry was coming. _And all for me, what a sight! Had they gone through all this trouble for me back at Horn Hill, i'd be hard-pressed to leave, wouldn't I?_ The Cavalry is coming, and i'm to leave with them. They were all men that she had seen, she was sure, at some point or another around their fine keep. The captain of the guard, her father's most trusted, Ser Preston Leygood, had seen her first when she was a girl, and had once helped her up after she had tripped in the mud during one of Lady Olenna's visits to Horn Hill some years ago. She hadn't ever wondered what kind of opinion Ser Preston had of her -or if he had any opinions at all. But now, standing in the snow, she thought that he must have formed some sort of bias against her as he marched all the way to The Wall just to retrieve a little girl that should have known her place from the start. What did she care of Ser Preston Leygood's opinion on her behaviour? What did she care, really, about the opinions of _any_ of her father's men? They did nothing but follow orders. They hadn't ever broken free -not like she had. They hadn't ever forged their way, through snow and steel, to make something out of nothing. Not like she had.

Speaking of upcoming arrivals, a one she was dreading less was Dolorous Edd's return to Castle Black. In light of Ser Allister's ever present dread, it was nice to have the fine brother when she did, and Talla dared to think he might have enjoyed her company as well even though she ultimately saw his disapproval in his restraint. But it was with that thought in mind when Talla noticed Ser Denys approaching her with another unrecognizable figure in hot pursuit, and she could slowly feel the jokes she had planned to nonchalantly say to Edd that night burn away like hot coal.

"Lady Talla, meet the commander of Long Barrow." She had expected a nod at best from the stranger, but the young man pressed slightly past Ser Denys, the only familiar presence she had in the cold yard yet, and took her gloved hand, jolting her slightly.

"Emmett," he answered her questioning stare still with her hand close to the sly smile that would not betray his lips, "titles are of little use to you, I assume."

 _You may assume nothing about me, Emmett._ What was he trying to say? Something glowed on suggestively in his honey eyes that Talla couldn't place her finger on. But whatever it was, she knew she cared very little to indulge him in allowing her to find out. He was rugged, and tall of course, and so she had no hardships in understanding why a band of spearwives would find him to be an attractive candidate to take as a lover, but surely his flimsy attitude would grow boring to even the wildlings.

"I'm happy to see you so spared for our humble feast tonight," _Our, how little humility have I learnt?_ "no doubt Long Barrow is in stitches without you and Eddison." She added as kindly as she could, surely failing at obscurely asking the question she knew she couldn't just ask. _Where is Eddison?_

"Oh i'm sure it's not that bad, my lady, Eddison can keep the peace enough. At least for a day or two." The long haired man answered as he dusted he cloak harshly from the snow, and Talla was glad for his momentary distraction so he wouldn't bear witness to her almost visible display of being taken aback. _I had specifically mentioned..._

No, she had specifically mentioned Long Barrow, and Talla was only just coming to terms with the fact that that meant this...Emmett.

"Oh, I was under the impression he'd be joining us." She veiled her obvious disappointment with a false smile -one she had been used to giving by now. She hoped she would not have to wear it often during her last night here.

"And what gave you that impression, my lady?" Talla didn't miss how his chest puffed out slightly at his question. _Ah, just what the Watch needs more of -false bravado. "I am the commander of my rat-infested, spearwife run, castle, so I will attend your feast when I see fit."_

She had never been more grateful to be interrupted.

"Lady Talla and Edd got on well last time he was here, i'm sure she's merely greedy for his company." He voiced with one his rare smirks, and for the first time that day, Talla thought she'd miss him, too.

"Have no worries, my lady, I aim to be more than sufficient company tonight." He pressed a tight kiss on her hand, presumably with some sort of effort at being chivalrous, but the act only made Talla squirm in her place, and once again her disappointment in the oft talked about man before her bubbled up. _They called this swashbuckler the pride of Eastwatch?_

"I only aim not to disappoint your expectations, Commander." She replied, her voice lacking the sweetness her words had offered -but the young commander did not take great care to notice.

His eyes scanned her with the greed of a man who had not seen a woman in years, and Talla hated him for it.

"You surely are a sight for sore eyes." _Where have I heard that before?_ She could have let another lie leave her lips if she had the will for it, but Talla was half tempted to tell him just exactly what he could do with those sore eyes before Ser Denys, once again, interrupted her with grace and good breeding.

"I, myself, never thought i'd see a woman at the Wall but, lady Talla has proven herself extremely useful to us." She couldn't enjoy the warmth of whatever that compliment -if it even was a compliment, to wash over her as her mind already raced for away to escape the accosting, now time-wasting, festival of greeting all aimed to one unworthy man. But, it would seem, dear commander Emmett was insistent on testing her patience.

"A troll in a wig could pass for a lady up here. Although, if I do say so myself, you are as fine a lady as i've ever seen." Her nostrils flared at the mindless words as they left him, but the clueless man merely chuckled at his own humor. Did he mean to flatter her? _Your flattery will get you nowhere -quite the contrary, it'll only get me as far away from you as possible._

"Lady Talla has more to boast than her non-troll like tendencies. So might I suggest you leave her be to let her get on with them?" She silently thanked Ser Denys for his timely interruption, once more, and judging the knowing nod he shared with Talla in the ensuing silence, she could healthily assume that he knew exactly how he was saving her.

Emmet awkwardly shifted on his feet, finally coming to terms with the strange notion that perhaps, for once, a woman at the wall was not melting at his feet. She bowed up shallowly out of the small, inconvenient, huddle that they had created, and set herself back on the path that the day had sent her on. Tonight was to be perfect, even if it meant that the likes of _Emmet_ were to enjoy it.

She made her way hurriedly up the stairs to get a better view of how things were coming along structurally, and as she caught a glimpse of the slowly thriving glasshouse just outside the walls, her eyes drifted farther to the horizon, where a swift and steady march of green flags made their way to her hideaway. _They are coming for me._

They were coming for her, and though she didn't know nor care about any one man in that retinue, she would make them all see what she had made of this place.

 _As if this one night I have, the last night i'll ever have with this brotherhood, revolved around impressing any one man._

* * *

 **Denys**

He had lived long and hard. True, he was a nobleman by birth, but he had earned his cloak -he had earned his _place_ in the Night's Watch.

 _She is still unafraid._ He thinks as her father's men make their way through the gates while she stand on the level above with her chin strangely raised. She is unafraid, still, she makes her way down to meet the captain and his offering, and steadfast in her courage as she welcomes him in and tells him they will be staying the night.

"The Night's Watch need not bother with our accommodations. Lord Tarly has demanded we return as soon as you have been safely handed over to us."

"And who is it I am being handed over _by_?" She had defied only them before -strangers, rebels, criminals, _outcasts_ , but never her father's own men -never her own people.

"Lord Tarly already has an agreement with the Lord Commander regarding the matter." Spoken with enough force from the captain of the guard to suggest that what he _truly_ meant was that he was losing patience with little girls trying to play at holding off a surrender.

Denys didn't know where from or what point exactly the aforementioned Lord Commander had come to Talla's proximity -but it was hardly surprising. _He is always close._ The young man slinked to the lady's side in a manner that neither Denys or their respective brothers had yet to see from him, and locked his arms around the base of his chest whilst betraying an expression on his face.

"Lord Tarly has made a request, one that is approved only by my order." Jon Snow started, and the entire guard before him watched on in suspicion as he asserted his dominance to them before sharing a quick look with Talla, once again, betraying nothing of what Denys already knew existed. "Lady Talla _will_ leave with you, but only when she allows it."

He had watched the boy for long now, and so every change in him was carefully watched and dispensed to Denys's memory as an analysis of his growing character. But as he watched the entire exchange, Denys realised that none of these men who had just freshly marched into Castle Black had ever seen or spoken to the young man before them. _Jon Snow, modest as you are, you seem to love making memorable impressions on people._

"I will not stand for this nonsense. Lord Tarly-" the tree of a man started, in what he must have thought was a sweeping offense, before being interrupted smoothly by a man Denys could hardly ever describe as smooth.

"Lord Tarly has no jurisdiction here -nor any King." He had put his foot down -after all, the Watch was not known for its pleasantries, but they both knew they needed that reminder to diffuse the situation. It usually did. And it would have probably done so with no issue if a certain lady had the good sense to leave things be.

"Or Queen." Her smugness was apparent -who would not be smug in her place? She had a band of misfits ready to defend her against soldiers trained to follow orders and murder whoever stood in their way.

The irritable captain was now, to no surprise, quite irritated, and Denys would have bet all of the nothing that he had that it was more to do with Lady Talla's interjection than Lord Commander Snow's defiance. _Could it really be called defiance when it is our land they step on?_

"Lady Talla is expected back at Highgarden. Do you wish to explain her delay to both her father and the Tyrells?" It was his last card, but it had wiped the smirk of both the young girl's face and the man who stood by her side. _He probably did not need to reminded that he stood by her side only now, when days later it will be her new husband's place. The Tyrells were always a powerful card to draw,_ he thought to himself, _but not this far up the map._

Denys stood on the side, and could only watch in awaiting silence with a thoughtless hand on guard as the lady stepped forward and away from the cover of her 'knight''s armor, coming face to face with her latest captor.

"There will be no delay." She stated icily, reminding Denys once more -perhaps for the last time, how she could get anything done up here. "Look up, it's almost dusk."

And just as he had painfully expected, they all looked up -even he! The sky was sinking into a deep pink horizon, and Ser whoever-his-name-is nor Lord Tarly can do anything to stop it.

"There won't be much daylight left to get very far -unless you'd like to set up camp near a Wildling settlement?" She continued in the same tone she had re-spawned herself in -devoid of smugness, devoid of pain, devoid of anything, really. She had only her intention in mind, and her means to carry her -and they all saw that.

Even her father's men, how reluctantly did _nothing_ in return -to everyone's shock and chagrin. They were shocked, yes, but could they _really_ be surprised?

"My father's men will stay the night -whether you wish to participate in the feast tonight is up to you. Either way, we leave at first light. Good evening, Ser Preston." And with that, she climbed back up the stairs, chased shortly by the Lord Commander's pet beast. _Had he been there the whole time?_

It was funny, now that he thought of it as he made the final stop to his chambers before having to go back out in an hour - _could the little rose be so fierce that those blasted, flowery southerners had not even noticed the direwolf in there midst?_

* * *

 **Jon**

They did not have the greatest -or smoothest, of beginnings.

The wildlings had been late to arrive, which was no surprise since they were not especially known for their punctuality, but suffice it to say it did not exactly help along the bitterness that hung in the air regarding the entire ordeal. Jon wished that their arrival had been better, but as soon as the gates had welcomed them in he realised that it was this exact moment that he should have been dreading.

He had been too preoccupied thinking of somebody else's departure to think of the Wildings' official arrival. And seeing as they were to be greeted by the very men who had been prepared to swear to kill wildlings until their dying breath rather than let them touch Castle Black, it was just now registering to him that it could all end in a blood bath should one wrong move be made.

Right moves, however, would not entirely ensure their safety, but they'd make it harder for either party's dignities to shed blood to such a show -and Talla had put on the grandest one most of the people in attendance had ever witnessed. She made all the right moves, greeting their guests and introducing them to their unwilling hosts with an insistent expression, leading people to an awkward shuffle of feet to their seating arrangements, starting the band and pouring the drinks. She had made all the right moves, and she had done them by his side. He found himself thinking, for the hundredth time that day, what was all of this for? _Who was all of this for?_

The cold wind spilled generously over the gates as the last embers of sunlight were crushed under the obsolete night sky, and somewhere in the distance the Gods must have looked down and laughed. _What does their laughter look like? Is it a strike of lightning?_ There was no lightning in this sky however, even though, at least to Jon, the sight of Wildlings and Crows sharing drink and food was enough to make even the mightiest titan cackle. There were sullen faces on both sides of course, not to mention those of the Tarly retinue who had deigned the night fit for their presence, and their pestering glances did not stop for any merriment. _Let them have their sour faces,_ Jon thought in a manner surprisingly all too similar to a certain southerner's, _they won't have tonight to show for it._

While they sat and awkwardly began shifting towards the _others_ the deeper and more comfortable into their cups they got, the lady of the keep roamed the hall like a curious ghost watching new tenants discover the house it had been haunting for centuries. Her dress remained plain in taste but strangely darker than always, her hair pulled back in a bun at the back of her head, and her the skin on her brow wrinkled slightly as she took another head count whilst he just sat and ...watched, like a boar watched the horizon pass it by.

 _"The girl will not do you any good._ " The Red Witch's whispers crept into his ear once more even with all the bustle around them and a band waiting to start behind him, but it was a strange anchor that pulled him back every time he was willing to ignore his own hesitations -every time he let himself think of her. Under the cover of the moon, a single shell in the snow, fractured by the light of a thousand flickering candles, she stood out in all lights, and in all lights the mysterious woman reminded him of what was at stake.

It had felt like an eternity that he had had something resting upon his shoulders -the weight of the world, no less, and even tonight amid the unsure bouts of happiness spilling through such dreary walls, the world still leaned heavily on his shoulders. There was not a moment in his memory -especially not since the darkness ate up his dreams, in which he could recall being a lad of young age, red blooded, raised in a castle and ready to take on his pursuits as they came. _Except perhaps that one night...with Talla._

The fiddle brushed in low strokes, resounding throughout the room and to Jon, mimicking the rumble of tension the moment before he had decided on kissing her -on giving in. And then the fiddle picked up, screeching in a higher pitch, and it poured in the memory of her arms around his neck, her _want_ lining his lips with her own. The sound carried him off his seat, pushing him to wander the crowded hall in a direction (or to a destination) he could not yet speak of.

The melody played like a journey in an afterthought as his eyes scanned the room for the lady of the evening. There were some children in the hall, making makeshift crows with twigs on an empty table, which he chose to ignore, and elder leaders gathered around Ulmer, wrapped in the blanket of his tales, _as i'm sure he will be in theirs'._ He stumbled onto many sights he thought he'd never see, and did not stop until his eyes had finally landed upon the picture of a lady in fractured light, weaved within the lax crowd with a tray in hand.

Though in the previous nights (and days) leading up to this one Jon had been hard pressed ever to find the lady without a scowl or furrowed brow marring her visage, he was pleased to finally find her a sight to behold. Despite the fact that she was still, for all intents and purposes, working the party with a tray in hand, she seemed, at least to Jon, relaxed...at peace. She wore a soft smile, unencumbered by any forced etiquettes or bitter words as her own eyes roamed around the room. _Counting her successes, no doubt._ He looked on as her eyes found minute details to criticise and sights to laugh upon, feeling like he had been walking with her through a myriad of emotions, until her eyes landed on his. It was only then that he realised how intently - _and cowardly_ , he had been staring at her. And, that the music had changed.

It was a song he had only ever heard played at Winterfell, and soon as he had noticed a change from the previously simmering rhythm a familiar hand grabbed Talla by the arm and pulled her into the middle of all the madness.

It would seem that Satin had let loose -tonight of all nights, and his stance almost seemed to be challenging the lady to a duel instead of a dance. Involuntarily, Jon's feet moved him closer to the scene, the floor booming beneath him with every stomp and the air vibrating with every energetic clap, until he had come close enough to witness her return the provocation in defiance -to which many of the brothers and wildlings alike inspecting the spectacle made sure to comment on.

"The lady's gonna teach 'us 'ow they do it 'n th'south!"

"Go on m'lady!"

"She'll show you how it's done, green boy!" They hollered on loudly, only fuelling the determination in her eyes, and so it set her off on a path that would stop for no one.

She bowed and twirled to the Northern song, saluting the sun and stars at every turn and occasionally landing herself in Satin's arms -who, it seemed, took every advantage to show off his strength with a mighty elevation at every opportunity.

They challenged one another, back and forth and fighting their way over the impromptu dance space, and if Jon were none the wiser he would have thought Satin was about to give in -luckily, however, Bearded Ben stepped in completely in sync to their rhythm and took Talla by the waist and away from her poor victim as she laughed backwards into his shoulder.

It was only seconds later that she had been passed off to Ulmer in a fit of giggles, her face flushed from the movement and at the old man's attempts at sporting his old bones before almost reluctantly meeting Emmet for a dance in which Jon could only describe as a power struggle. Needless to say, it did not last long, and she allowed herself to be handed to Tormund moments after, their heights comically unmatched, nevertheless, she gleamed with her rare joy, nearly convulsing at the uncouth laughter that continued to leave her.

As she danced wildly to the ongoing song, Jon spotted the men lining up to his right and, knowing that there was an upcoming fast-paced interlude in the song, figured that they must have been planning on indulging Talla in a spinning-wall. _Perhaps in an attempt to dizzy her down off of her high as well_. The new found knowledge and the strange piece of metal in his pocket armed the young commander with the strength to step forward to where the makeshift wall of misfits ended just as the young flower spun wildly through it and, in a clash of winds, he met her with a crash as she landed into his arms, her frame suddenly still and her eyes wide with surprise.

He would wager his gold if he had any on what she thought of him in that singular moment, but it was a wager he'd have to leave for later, for he felt all eyes on him and his hands that rested upon her waist. Many hands had undoubtedly fallen upon her waste -he had witnessed them do so tonight, after all, but Jon would have to admit he'd be disappointed to find out if any of those hands felt the same surge of fire he felt when he held her.

As he came to his senses, thankful that it was only a moment in which he had lost them, he dared to move the body that they had made up together -slowly, and in their place at first, but as he felt her body ease out of the stiffness his touch had pushed her into they both fell into the unforgiving pace of the song. He swung her high and did not count how many times he had leant his smile out in her presence -he just felt her fire, and it was infectious. She let him have her freely, if he were to close his eyes he could almost tell himself that she was his lady and his to show off in front of whomever he deemed fit to witness the way she cradled his neck with her hands.

Jon could not even recall the last time he had danced, never mind with such recklessness and in the presence of so many subordinates, but even as he caught casual sightings of Ser Denys with his arms crossed and a look of wistful disapproval, Jon could not bring himself to care. _No more, not tonight, not after this._ They were so close, and judging by the way her face fell when the music had finally come to its abrupt stop, Jon Snow could almost deceive himself into thinking that she, too, wished it would never stop.

* * *

 **Talla**

She felt hot all over, even after an hour had passed and she had retired herself to her chamber. Even as her father's men followed her to her room to ensure the safe keeping of her honour for the night, she sensed the soft caress of his touch through the thick material of her dress.

She could barely even remember all that had transpired that night -it passed by in a rushed haze. From the men to the drink to even more men, Talla had barely had any time to inhale the alcoholic air before she had spied the young commander staring at her from across the room as if something was coming. And, of course, it did, though she didn't know whether to be glad or perplexed at how unexpected it was.

Talla brushed a strand of hair with her fingers, pulling her braid loose to cascade into her lap as she finally dared to look at the changed woman in the mirror. She had danced amongst men of every caliber that night -thieves and knights and _wildlings_ of all people, but no one made her feel the way _he_ did.

"Gods damn you, Jon Snow." She whispered, gasping momentarily and covering her mouth at the statement before remembering that she was alone. For some reason, it was hard to feel like she was alone anymore. _He surrounds me all the time, could that last even when I travel down to where the snow has surely thawed?_

 _Something else has thawed, surely, though I can not yet tell what. Is it him? Is it me? What has he done?_

 _What have you done to me, Jon Snow?_ On the even of her departure, she had to wonder. And she would have, were it not for the soft knock on her door in the middle of the night.

The feast still raged on, audible even from her chamber in the King's Tower, but Talla knew her stillness enough to know when a disruption had come. She stilled, suddenly feeling cold in a room where the warm air had been trapped precisely enough for her liking with her fingers still stuck in her braid, before the knock she _thought_ she heard became a knock she could no longer deny, coming back louder and sharper.

A surge of fear that she had taught herself to ignore pulsed through her -her guards had only escorted her to her chamber, but they had not stayed, Talla felt them leave almost immediately, so who was it that was taking the opportunity to come to her door in the dead of night and winter? A drunkard from the feast? Ser Alliser? _Emmet_?

"Talla." _It's him._ She didn't know whether to sigh out in relief at the sound of his raspy voice, but she had no time to think of how she felt or the robes she did or did not have on as she rushed to open the door for him and drag him out of the cold before anyone could see him.

"What are you _doing_ here?" _Are you lost? Is your blood dripping in ale? Are your eyes glazed in inebriation? Are your lips laced with the lies of the drink?_ She couldn't tell what had pushed him to come to her now...or at all.

He stood in the warmth of her room -her _space,_ looking as sullen as ever before, with dark strands of hair falling past his ears. She waited for his explanation -for him to tell her that there was some sort of problem that only she could scrub clean, but an explanation never came. The dark man merely leaned over and kissed her, touching her neck with a gloved hand that was still dusted with snow.

"Oh.." She breathed out once he had given her enough room to exhale. Granted, it was not much. With his hand still gloved and cold, he kept her head in place next to his, never letting her face relent on the tantalising contact with his own. It was simple and rough, not at all as poised as what the Reach had told her to aspire to, but Talla doubted that the Lord Commander of Castle Black was what her septa had in mind for the man she'd give her heart to. _He's more than that. He's so much more than that._

"Say my name." He whispered to her in a frenzy, and it seemed like the only thing that had been said in so long since he had been there. It had been an eternity in her room, an eternity in his arms.

Talla tasted the leather of his glove as it traced the swelling of her lip, but she couldn't bring herself to look back at his eyes that were staring holes into her skin. Stern, strict Jon Snow was in her room, begging for the hot air to taste the way his name sounded coming out of her mouth. He had kissed her before, yes, but Talla had assumed that it had been out of pity. He had teased her before, yes, and even though she knew that he was typically a man of his word, she found it hard to believe that he'd consider taking matters into his own hands once he had caught a whiff of her hesitation.

"If you've thought about kissing me, even once, say my name." He rolled her words right back to her, and Talla could not resist the temptation. Of teasing him, of course.

"You're paraphrasing." She smiled, and so did he.

She hadn't ever seen something so beautiful -not in the Reach and certainly not this far North. He was something else, not entirely stone and not entirely velvet. _A bit of both, perhaps_. And she could only be in awe of it, even with his hand on her face and the other circling her waist with growing anticipation.

"I don't know what that means." He was almost youthful as he said it, and in his foolishness Talla realised how foolish she had been this whole time. She had left her home, she had made it to the Wall, she had forced herself into the lives of men many women at court would faint at the smell of. She had gone so far, just to deny herself of the one thing she so longed to taste.

Still reeling off of his clumsy attempt at humour, she pushed herself up and into him, and this time, he did not hesitate in holding her in return. She felt it again, _all over again_ , the impossible feeling of being so close to someone. _It wasn't just a fluke, this is real._ Never had anything felt more exhilarating than the feel of someone's want against your own.

"Jon." She hoarsely sighed, half-hoping it would get lost in the air. _There, I said it. Now you know. Now you know how I want you._

"I want you. Tell me..." He mumbled harshly against her lips, his stubble prickling her skin in all the best ways. She felt it. Whatever this was, she could no longer doubt that he wanted her -no more than her own aching need for him. She could no longer hide behind indifference.

She stroked his hair before bringing her hands down to his own and removing the gloves off of them. His fingers held some sort of charge on them -whatever it was, be it the dark arts, she did not care, it was thrilling to the very core. Talla guided his hands to her collar bone, where they gently rested before achingly pushing the start of her sleeve away, and she closed her eyes, reveling in every moment of his touch before caving in a manner she was sure her septa would faint at.

"Stop talking." She wasn't even sure if it was her that had pulled him to her and not whatever uncanny force of attraction that rumbled within her. Once again, their hands explored each other, and Talla made herself acquainted with his doublet before preparing to bit adieu to it.

She could not expect a completely reckless Jon at her doorstep -nor would she want one. He would not really be Jon if he were. And so it came to no surprise to her -only merely to her flaming senses, perhaps, when his hands overlapped onto hers before she could remove his doublet off of him.

"Are you sure? You _are_ still a lady, you know." Reckless, perhaps not. But smug? Clearly.

It was the perfect opportunity for her stop, if she wanted to. She could tell him that it had been a long night and that she was a foolish maiden, if she wanted to. Just as he had given her the choice to proceed that day in the pantry, he was giving her the choice to opt out tonight, if she wanted to. But she didn't want to. She had Highgarden waiting for her, a gentle and friendly husband probably raising his hawks right this moment and a father worrying over his honour, they were all extortions meant to keep her in check, and perhaps, when she was a lesser woman, they would have. But they were not _reasons_ , and Talla did not mean to be shackled by them any longer. She wanted _something_ , but she didn't want to stop. _Chivalrous, as always, Jon Snow._

"Perhaps...but I am _your_ lady, still." _For hours more, I am yours._

* * *

 **So... _that_ happened. Tell me what you guys think. Or nah. What are we feeling here, guys? Did I make the right choice? Should I have kept you guys in never-ending angst?**

 **On a side note, if anyone is interested to know, the dane sequence was written to the tune of Kingdom Dance by Taryn Harbridge on repeat (from the Tangled OST). Weird...I know...but it's literally been the inspiration for this MONTHS since I first heard and I immediately knew where I wanted to take this story all those months back. It feels book to finally honour the promise I made to that song -this chapter, for more than one reason, is a milestone for me.**

 **Before I go (God knows for how long) I just wanted to say how much I appreciate your support. Whoever is out there, reading, thank you. I have more news coming up in the next chapter! Wait and see!**


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